Love Bites
by James Doyle
Summary: Lilly renews her friendship with Jackson after a hasty and ill-planned attempt to return to California strands her in Tennessee. What will become of this relationship? Can Lilly rebuild the bridges she's burned? Read and find out!
1. Farewell, New York!

Standard Disclaimer: You know the drill...

_Here's a nice, angsty, non-crossover (save for a shout-out or two) _Hannah Montana _fic for your reading pleasure. Normally, I don't like to have this many ongoing projects at once, but this one was begging to be written. Enjoy!_

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter One: Farewell, New York!

_From the Memoirs of Lilly Truscott_

I'd had it! I couldn't possibly stay another day in the crowded, polluted, foul-weathered armpit of Planet Earth that was New York City. College could go to hell. Work could go to hell. Extracurriculars could go to hell. And Oliver Oken, above all, could go to hell.

I stopped at the nearest drug store and bought a box of large trash bags. I then returned to my dorm room and began tossing my stuff indiscriminately into garbage bags, double-bagging the few that seemed to be getting too heavy. I started hauling bags to my car, two and three at a time (quite a feat for someone as petite as me.) The trunk filled up pretty quickly, and the back seat didn't take long, either. Surprisingly, I still had the presence of mind to only put a couple of bags in the front seat so I could still see my right side mirror.

I took another quick look around my dorm room. Only a few odds and ends remained, and I decided my roommate could keep them. I made a quick call to my bank to make sure I had money. It was student loan money that I'd probably have to repay in a hurry. It didn't matter; I wasn't thinking that far ahead.

As I got in my car, I took a look at my gas gauge. It read a little less than half a tank. It'd get me to PA, where gas prices would be a little more reasonable. I took one last look at the City University of New York before driving off, taking care to plot a route out of town that wouldn't take me anywhere near Juiliard. Half an hour later, I was cruising west across New Jersey on I-78, headed home. I wasn't sure where that was anymore, but I'd figure it out somewhere along the way.

The first two hours or so seemed to zip right by, and before I knew it, I found myself in Pennsylvania' s Lehigh Valley. I found the nearest gas station and fueled up. When I went inside to get some caffeine, I found that the bathrooms were actually usable, so I took a preemptive tinkle.

Once I got back on the road, the gentle hum of my engine and the faint rattling of my belongings faded into the background, and I found myself transported taking a trip down repressed memory lane.

It had been about three weeks before, shortly after the start of the semester, when this whole nightmare began. I hadn't gone home for winter break, and neither had Oliver. I thought this would give us some long-overdue quality time together. As I should've suspected, this didn't happen.

"Hey, Lilly-pop," greeted Oliver, meeting me at our usual place. "What's up?"

I returned his greeting with a chaste kiss.

"Sorry I've been so scarce lately," continued Oliver. "Rehearsals are back in full-swing already."

"Yeah, you and Greta must really busy," I snarked in reply.

"Lilly, I told you," defended Oliver. "There's nothing going on between me and Greta. She's just a colleague."

"Relax, Oliver," I assured him. "I believe you. This has nothing to do with her."

"What is it, then?" asked Oliver, obviously sensing what was coming next.

"Olive, I love you, and I don't blame you for not having any time for me," I continued. "You told me back when you got accepted to Juiliard that it would be demanding."

"Yeah, it is," granted Oliver. "But you came out here to support me in my dream. I owe you at least as much."

I leaned in and took his hand. "You don't owe me anything, Ollie-pop. It was my mistake thinking you'd have any time for me. It was selfish of me to ask you to try and juggle that with your dream."

Oliver's face turned white. "Tell me you're not saying what I think you're saying."

"I'm afraid I am," I said ruefully. "I love you, Oliver, but I need to do what's best for both of us. I need to let you go."

Oliver sat mute for a moment, then spoke. "I understand," agreed Oliver, "I'll always love you, but I think you're right."

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured him. "You've always been my best friend, and you always will be."

"I'm glad," replied Oliver. "So this isn't goodbye?"

"Nope," I said. "More like, 'See you around.'"

Oliver smiled as he left. "See you around, then."

For reasons I wouldn't understand until later, Oliver had taken it much better than I thought he would. I, on the other hand, had run out of control over my composure. As soon as he left, I burst into tears. Little did I know, I'd be shedding many more tears over him.

Before I knew it, I'd started crying again, and my contacts were beginning to mist up, obscuring my view of the road. I pulled over briefly and rummaged around for my purse. Once I'd found it, I put my contacts in their case and put on my glasses. Before getting back on the road, I decided I needed a distraction. I looked through the CDs in the sleeve on my visor, and found Linkin Park's _Hybrid Theory _and Limp Bizkit's _Significant Other_, both of which fit my mood. With the tunes blaring, I headed westward once again.

I-81 seemed to go on forever, a monotonous blur of driving and stopping for gas and use the little girls' room. I only realized I'd driven through five states when I-81 merged with I-40. I felt a certain sense of accomplishment, knowing this road would take me all the way to California. I didn't know if it was possible to drive the whole way in one shot, but I was hell-bent on trying.

I don't know why I chose that particular moment to notice, but it dawned on me then that I'd soon be driving through Knoxville, Tennessee. It was then I realized I hadn't been to that state since I'd gone to help Miley save her hometown. So, of course, I couldn't help but think back to the last time she and I spoke.

It had been the previous August, just before Oliver and I left for New York. Miley wasn't too happy about it.

"I cannot believe this," exclaimed Miley.

"What, that I want to support my boyfriend?" I argued.

"No," countered Miley. "That you'd give up a full scholarship to USC to go to CUNY."

"You sound just like my mother," I reviled.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe she was right?"

"I'd have thought that you, of all people, would be more supportive," I argued. "I mean, Oliver and I have been dating for a year and a half, and we've been best friends our entire lives. Should I throw all that away over something as stupid as somebody else's opinion of where I should go to college?"

"So instead, you throw away _our _friendship," retorted Miley.

"You know it doesn't have to be that way," I pleaded. "You could go to CUNY, too. It'll be the three of us, just like it's always been. You don't _have _to go to Santa Barbara."

"You know as well as I do that I can't leave."

"Oh that's right," I sniped as I went into full bitch mode. "You have to stay in California because you just can't let go of Hannah Montana. You are such a diva!"

"I'm a diva?" defended Miley. "What about Smokin' Oken, who turned a spot in USC's musical theater program because he just _had _to go to Juiliard?"

"Yes, he _does _have to go to Juiliard! That's his dream."

"And Hannah Montana's my dream," argued Miley, whose anger turned quickly to sorrow. "I guess you've decided which of us is more important to you."

"Miley," I began to plead.

"Just go," dismissed Miley. "Have a nice life with your superstar boyfriend."

Tennessee is a very long state from east to west, and that sequence played through my head over and over, until I found myself dry-sobbing because I'd run out of tears. I realized I shouldn't have left when Miley told me to go. If I'd stayed and talked it out with her, I would've realized I was making the wrong choice. I could've let Oliver go while it was still relatively painless for everyone. I'd still have Miley as my best friend, and I wouldn't know what I knew now. Instead, I'd lost both of them, and now all I had left was some faint hope that I could make things right with my family.

_My God_, I thought to myself, _What have I done?_

I played through all of the CDs that I had close at hand until the only thing left was Radiohead. Was it Radiohead or Coldplay that we'd danced to so long ago? To this day, I still don't know. One thing I did know was that Oliver was on my mind again.

After our breakup at the Waverly Sub Station, Oliver went from scarce to MIA. I just thought he needed some cool off. But when I couldn't get a hold of him by either phone or e-mail, I started to worry. So I decided to pay him a personal visit. When I arrived at his dorm room, all I could hear was seventies soul music, blaring at max volume. I tried knocking, but of course, he couldn't hear me over that racket. I tried the doorknob, and as it turned out, the door was unlocked. When I saw what was going on inside, I swear my heart stopped for a good minute. I should've cried, or screamed, or made some kind of noise, but all I could do was run. And I kept running. By the time I'd recovered any sense of reality, I'd skipped about five stops on my normal subway route.

I missed class the next day, and didn't get anything out of the following day's classes. I didn't ever want to speak to Oliver again, so I still don't know what made me pick up when he called.

"What?" I demanded.

"Well, someone's in a pissy mood!" Oliver replied indignantly.

"Yeah, whatever," I said, not in the mood for his mind-games. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to say that you had a lot of brass barging on me and Greta," admonished Oliver.

"I had a lot of nerve?" I retorted. "You could've at least waited for the sheets to cool down before bringing that skank into the bed!"

"I don't have to justify myself to you," countered Oliver. "As I recall, you let me go."

"Well, you could've at least told me that you were seeing Greta so I had some idea of what I was walking into," I argued. "I mean, I was under the impression we were still friends."

Oliver scoffed. "Please! You know as well as I do that never works."

"You asshole!" I cursed.

"Whatever happened to 'donut?'" taunted Oliver.

"Oh, I am through mincing words with you. I left everything behind so I can support you, and you screw me over in every possible way, figuratively and literally."

"Well, I guess that was your bad," snarked Oliver. "In any case, stay away from me and Greta."

"Happy to oblige. Have a nice life," I retorted as I hung up the phone. I cried for the entire subway ride back to campus. After I got off, I walked past the drug store, which was when I decided to buy that box of garbage bags.

Replaying that whole scene in my head several times as I drove through Tennessee brought me to the first of three things I learned that night. The first thing I learned was that, while you can drive quite a ways on sheer adrenaline, eventually exhaustion catches up to you. I must've been driving for several miles in that semi-conscious state. The sound of a semi-truck horn brought me back to the here-and-now. I realized I was barely moving, even slowing down, even though my foot was still on the gas.

This brought me to my second realization: The dial on your dashboard that most people can't identify is called a tachometer, and when the needle approaches the red line at the far end of the dial (known, appropriately enough, as "redlining,") and your engine starts making a high-pitched whine, you're in big trouble. I knew what was going on had something to do with the transmission, but I was determined to keep moving. So I quickly flipped on my four-ways and tried the shifter in several different positions, and stomped on the gas pedal, cursing and wailing as I tried in vain to get the vehicle moving again.

Finally came the third realization: When you have this problem, whatever you do, stop driving! I realized this too late, and I had no choice but to pull over as I heard a loud bang, followed by smoke pouring out from under my hood. Parking gear didn't work, so I shifted into neutral and set the parking brake.

I still hadn't grasped that my car was down for the count, so tried starting it back up, more out of desperation than anything else. I kept pumping the gas and turning the starter in vain. Eventually, I gave up and contented myself with wailing and sobbing like there was no tomorrow, because as far as I was concerned at that moment, there was none. After a few minutes of this, sheer and utter exhaustion overtook me, and I passed out.

I don't know how long I'd been asleep, but I soon realized the folly of leaving my headlights on, as my battery had gone dead. I wondered why a passing trucker or other such Good Samaritan hadn't stopped to help me. But in a way, I was glad no one had noticed me. All alone at night on the Interstate in the middle of nowhere is no place for five-foot-three, hundred-pound girl to be all alone. I took my cell phone, the one remaining piece of technology that might actually help me, out of my purse. It had just enough juice left for one phone call, so I had to weigh carefully who I'd call.

My first thought was my mother. I dismissed that pretty quickly, because I wasn't quite ready to admit to her that this had all been the result of a series of monumental mistakes. My second thought was the State Police. I almost called them when I remember that I was driving a car titled in my mother's name with an expired registration. That would mean I'd have to face her wrath as well as any legal repercussions.

I ran through my speed-dial list, and every name that came up was of a bridge I'd burned over the last year. Only one name stood out that offered a faint glimmer of hope.

Jackson Stewart.

I hadn't heard much from Jackson since he'd decided to go back to Tennessee U, and of course my relationship with Miley was on the rocks. But as far as I knew, Jackson didn't have a beef with me. And he was right there in Tennessee. If anybody could help me, it would be him. I didn't hesitate for another minute to call him.

After about the third ring, I started to think of what I'd say to his voice-mail so he'd know how to find me. After the fourth ring, I started to worry that this wasn't his number anymore. Thankfully, neither of those scenarios happened. I could hear background noise as somebody picked up the phone.

"Dang flabbit," I heard Jackson curse in the background. The sound of his voice brought me more joy than anything I'd heard in a long time. "Yeah, what?" he said as finally managed to get the phone to his ear.

"Jackson!" I screamed, the pitch of my voice going through the ceiling the way it always does when I get excited. "It 's me!"

"Could you be more specific?" croaked Jackson, obviously not quite awake.

"It's Lilly Truscott," I clarified. "Look, I know it's late, and I know we haven't talked in awhile, and I know me and Miley..."

"Lilly," interrupted Jackson, who obviously had a better handle on the urgency of the situation than I had. "What's the problem?"

"I'm stuck on I-40. My car's dead, I don't have AAA, I don't where I'd go if I did. Is there any chance..."

"You want me to come get you," deduced Jackson. "Where are you?"

I realized then that I didn't know, but fortunately, there was an exit sign not a hundred yards in front of me.

"I-40 westbound, about two miles east of the exit for route 50," I informed him. "My phone's about to go dead."

"Okay, I should be there in about two hours," promised Jackson. "Do you have any way to keep warm until then?"

"Yeah, I have extra clothes."

"Good," said Jackson. "Put on a few extra layers. Turn your phone off; you might need it again for an emergency."

"I owe you bigtime," I said gratefully.

"Don't worry about it," said Jackson. "See you in a bit."

After I hung up the phone and put on whatever clothes I could reach without getting out of the car, I found myself with absolutely nothing to do but try and get some much-needed rest. As I started to nod off, I reflected on the fact that although my religious views weren't nearly as traditional or systematic as Miley's, we both believed in God, a God which I now thanked for bringing me to a place where the one friend I had left in the world could come rescue me.

**End of Chapter One**


	2. A Friend in Need

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Two: A Friend in Need

_From the Memoirs of Jackson Stewart:_

Lilly Truscott.

It had been months since I'd even heard her name, much less her voice. So you can imagine my surprise when, out of the clear blue, I got a phone call from her. I'd gotten a new phone since I'd last spoken to her, and Lilly had gotten a new number, so I didn't recognize the number. If I'd been fully conscious, I might have ignored her. The fact that she was calling me at two in the morning told me she wasn't calling just to catch up.

When she started babbling incoherently, I knew she was panicking. I got her to calm down and explain the situation. I didn't ask what was wrong with her car, because I figured in her current state, she'd probably make things worse if I tried to talk her through it. It didn't take a Rhodes Scholar to figure out that Lilly was alone and scared, and what she really needed right now was a friend.

As I talked to her, I wondered if I should grab a quick shower before heading out. I thought better of it, realizing she was probably freezing her butt off out there, so the sooner I got there, the better. I didn't know whether or not her heat was working, and I wasn't going to waste her battery trying to figure it out, so I encouraged her to put on some warm clothes. By the time she hung up, I'd managed to throw some pants on. I figured the shirt I was wearing would do, so I grabbed hat, gloves, keys, wallet, and coat, and headed out the door.

I don't know what came over me, but somehow, I managed to beat my two-hour time estimate by almost forty minutes. If there'd been any state cops along the way, my license would've been an ornament down at the barracks. As I got closer to route 50, I cursed myself for not getting the make and model of Lilly's car. Then I saw a yellow Chevy Cobalt sedan on the other side of the Interstate. Figuring that'd be something Lilly would drive, I contemplated how to get there. The next exit wasn't for several miles. Not wanting to wait that long, I summoned up the huevos to use an emergency turnaround. Praise the Lord, nobody saw me!

I pulled up behind the Cobalt, leaving my engine running and my four-ways and headlights on as I crawled across the shotgun seat, grabbing a flashlight as I got out. I walked over to the vehicle and tapped on the window with my flashlight.

"Lilly," I called out. "It's me."

I waited a moment, and thought about going back to the truck and tapping on the horn when a hand wiped the fog from the window, and a familiar face soon took its place.

"Jackson!" cried Lilly. "Oh, thank God!"

I opened the door, and she jumped out into my arms, almost knocking me over.

"You can't believe how happy I am to see you," Lilly sobbed into my coat. We could head back, or work on the car, or do whatever we needed to do in a minute. Right then, Lilly was safe and warm in my arms, and I wasn't about to take that away from her. Eventually, she let go on her own.

Lilly took a moment to explain what the car had been doing. She had a surprisingly good handle on it. Unfortunately, it still meant there was nothing I could do for the car.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"Do you want the bad news or the worse news?" I offered.

Lilly groaned. "Ease me into it."

"The bad news is, your transmission's frakked," I explained. "If that was the only thing wrong, this car might have been salvageable. Expensive, but salvageable."

"So what's the worse news?"

"The worse news is, running your engine at redline for that long probably did permanent damage. Your car is history."

Lilly began wailing again. "I'm such an idiot!"

I put my arms around her once again. "It's not your fault. There's no way you could've known." I took her by the shoulders and looked deep into her green eyes. "Let's get you back to Magdeburg. We can figure out what to do from here after we've gotten some rest."

Lilly nodded in agreement. We set about transferring her bags into the truck bed. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the road. We rode in silence for a few minutes. It was killing me, but I didn't want to be the first to speak, afraid that I might say the wrong thing. Thankfully, Lilly broke the silence.

"I can never thank you enough for rescuing me," thanked Lilly.

"That's really not necessary," I assured her. "I'm happy to do it. I wish it wasn't under such crappy circumstances, but it's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you again, too," admitted Lilly.

"I've been wondering what you've been up to. Miley doesn't say much about you these days."

Lilly sighed. "No, I don't guess she would. She and I didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"I overheard the argument," I confessed. "You're right: Miley can be a diva sometimes."

"Could we not talk about her?" requested Lilly. "At least for now."

I nodded. "Sure thing. So, at the risk of putting my foot in my mouth, what brings you to Tennessee?"

Lilly sighed in frustration. "I was headed back to California. I guess I figured if I showed up on my mom's doorstep with all my stuff, she couldn't turn me away. I didn't really want to go home, either, but what other choice did I have? There's nothing left for me in New York."

"Lilly, what happened to you?" I dared to ask.

"Everything," she replied flatly.

Lilly gave me the short version of what had happened, how she'd gone to CUNY, over against her family's objections, to be with Oliver. He repaid her by basically ignoring her for an entire semester, spending more time with his supposed "colleague" Greta, a Dutch-Canadian girl in most of his classes, than he'd ever spent with Lilly. She told of how she'd graciously stood aside so Oliver could pursue his dream. Why anyone would think she was holding him back, I couldn't figure.

Of course, it was bullshit. In reality, Oliver had just gotten tired of Lilly, and was just waiting for her to get fed up with being ignored so he could console himself with the knowledge that _she'd _dumped _him _as he hooked up with Greta. I'd bet my college money that Oliver had been banging her on the side the whole time. Once upon a time, I considered Oliver my best friend. Now, he made me sick.

"That dude's a waste of sperm," I declared. "You're better off without him."

Lilly began to cry again. I'd obviously said the wrong thing.

"Oh Lilly," I apologized. "I'm so sorry."

"No," she replied. "It's not your fault. It's my fault. It's my fault for giving that 'waste of sperm' my love, my future, my hopes, my dreams..._" _Lilly's sorrow turned to anger. "...my _virginity!_"

I'd never had a girl pour her heart out to me like this before. I imagined this was the sort of thing Lilly would tell Miley if the two of them were on speaking terms. It was then I realized that I'd just received a battlefield promotion to Lilly's best friend. Her only friend. I wasn't exactly comfortable in that role, but she needed me, and I'd do my level best to be there for her.

"It's not your fault, Lilly," I consoled. "You hung in there, and you loved Oliver right up until the end, even when he threw it back in your face. You're not a victim; you're a hero."

"I really don't feel like a hero," lamented Lilly.

"Nothing to do about that but give it time," I said ruefully.

"So what's with the eighties rock?" asked Lilly, changing the subject.

"It's my roommate's truck," I explained. "There's a trick to opening and closing the CD changer. I mainly had it on for background noise. I can turn it off if it bothers you."

"No," declined Lilly. "I could use a little background noise, too. It's just different."

As the next track came on, I could hear Lilly singing along softly. For some reason, she didn't sound terrible. She would later tell me that song pretty accurately described what she'd been feeling that night.

_When you make love  
__Do you look in the mirror__  
Who do you think o  
Does he look like me  
__Do you tell lies  
And say that it's forever  
Do you think twice  
Or just touch and see_

_ Oh babe  
Oh yeah_

_ When you're alone  
Do you let go  
Are you wild and willing  
Or is it just for show_

_ Oh, come on_

_ I don't want to touch you too much, baby  
Cause making love to you might drive me crazy  
I know you think that love is the way you make it  
So I don't want to be there when you decide to break it_

_ No_

_ Love bites, love bleeds  
It's bringing me to my knees  
Love lives, love dies  
It's no surprise  
Love begs, love pleads  
It's what I need_

It was about five in the morning when we pulled into the driveway of my modest second-floor off-campus apartment. When we got there, Lilly had fallen asleep. I nudged her gently to wake her up.

"Are we here?" Lilly asked groggily as she came back to life.

"Yeah, we're here. Is there anything you need out of the truck right now?"

"My purse, my laptop bag, and my makeup bag for sure," indicated Lilly. "Do you think the rest of it will be okay?"

I nodded. The cargo shell could handle everything except the cold temperatures.

"Are you sure I can stay here?" asked Lilly we made our way up the steps. "I really don't want to be a burden."

"No trouble at all," I assured her. "Morris is out of town for the rest of the week. I'm sure we can figure out what to do with you by then. In the meantime, I imagine you'd like a shower."

"Man, would I ever."

I set out some towels for Lilly and showed her the trick for getting the water to just the right temperature. As she showered, I stripped my bed and fitted it with some clean sheets. I figured neither I nor Lilly would be good for much of anything that day, so I rattled off a few quick e-mails to my professors. I explained exactly what had happened, praying that the one I owed a lab would be willing to give me an extension. I had to be a little more modest with a girl in the house, so I exchanged my jeans for a pair of sweatpants.

Lilly emerged from the bathroom just as I crawled into Morris' bed. The tank top and pajama pants she wore brought back memories of countless sleepovers. One that particularly came to mind was when she and Miley invited Joannie Palumbo over to try and make peace with her for Oliver's sake. I had my doubts about Miley, but I knew if anybody could bury the hatchet, it was Lilly. And once my tail bone had stopped throbbing, I had to admit, Lake Lugee was pretty damn hilarious.

"I see your housekeeping has improved," chuckled Lilly.

I smiled. It was good to see that Lilly hadn't lost her sense of humor. "Yeah, Morris is kind of a neat-freak. He really rides my ass if I don't at least keep things organized."

"I really don't mean to sound critical," apologized Lilly. "It's more than enough that you rescued me and took me in."

"It's the least I could do."

After a few minutes, I started to drift off to sleep, so I became slightly annoyed when Lilly spoke.

"Jackson?" she mumbled.

"Yes, Lilly?" I replied patiently.

"I know we haven't always been the closest of friends, and that's my fault. But you've always had my back. I knew calling you was the right thing."

I couldn't help but smile. "I appreciate that. Good night, Lilly. "

"Good night, Jackson."

I'd managed to get maybe an hour of sleep when the sun poked through my window. I started to turn to bury my face in the pillow, when I heard a dull whimper coming from Lilly. I had no idea what to do, but somehow I knew I just couldn't leave her there crying. Lilly was on her side, face to the wall, leaving me enough room lay down beside her. I put one arm around her, using the other hand to gently stroke her blonde hair.

"It'll be okay," I tried to assure her, not really sure of what I was saying.

"I hope so," whimpered Lilly.

**End of Chapter Two**

Song Credit:

"Love Bites"  
Written by J. Elliott, R, Allen, P. Collen, S, Clark, M, Lange, R. Savage  
Performed by Def Leppard  
From the album _Hysteria _(1987)

_I won't disallow unsigned reviews, but I will ask you nicely to sign your reviews. I like to know a little bit about my readers, and respond to their criticism. Stay tuned!_


	3. A Bit Like Home

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Three A Bit Like Home

_From the Memoirs of Lilly Truscott:_

I slept until about six o'clock Tuesday evening. I found a note from Jackson telling me that he had to finish his overdue lab and would be in quite late, along with about thirty dollars cash, a flier for the local pizza place, and a key to the apartment. I didn't feel like going anywhere, and my stomach was still waking up, so I decided to take a shower.

I didn't stay in for long; just long enough to get cleaned up. Still, I apparently hadn't heard the front door open. Just as I reached for the towel, I got the scare of my life as Jackson's roommate barged in. My screeching sent him running, so I didn't get a good look at him at first.

I finished toweling off and donned my usual tank top and pajama bottoms. Finding the bedroom door shut, I knocked.

"Uh...yeah," grunted the young man. "Just a minute."

A few minutes later, the door opened, and a lean, muscular guy of about five-foot-ten with a dark brown buzz-cut stood before me. The sweat on his brow and the redness in his cheeks gave me a pretty good idea what he'd been doing. He ran into the bathroom, where he quickly washed his hands and returned.

"Hi," he greeted. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

"Let's," I agreed.

"I'm Henry Morris," introduced the fine male specimen standing before me. "Friends call me Morris."

"Lilly," I replied, shaking his hand. "Lilly Truscott."

Morris grinned. "Pleased to meet you, Lilly Truscott. Stewart didn't tell me he had a new girlfriend."

"Oh, I'm not dating Jackson," I clarified. "I'm just an old family friend from California."

"I see," said Morris, his eyebrows perking up. "So what brings you to Tennessee?"

"It's kind of a long story," I deflected. I had to admit, Morris was kind of a hunk. Judging from the way he was looking at me, he found me attractive, as well. All the more reason, I thought, to lay down a few ground rules. I had no intention of spilling my guts to him, but it was important that he knew where I stood.

"Look, Morris," I continued. "You seem like a nice guy, so I want to be clear about a few things, just to make sure I don't give you the wrong impression."

Morris nodded. "Go on."

"I just went through a nasty breakup. Jackson's helping me through this as a friend, but I'm really not looking to date anyone right now."

"I'm sorry to hear that," sympathized Morris. "About the breakup, I mean. It would've been nice if Stewart had let me know you were coming, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"I really appreciate that," I said gratefully. "Speaking of which, Jackson said you weren't due back until Friday."

"Yeah, I was on a cruise with my folks," enlightened Morris. "It totally blew. I only went so I could meet London Tipton."

"And then you found out what a retard she is," I surmised.

Morris laughed. "Yep, you got it."

From there on, Morris and I got to know each other a bit.

"So you're from Southern California originally?" asked Morris.

I nodded. "Born and raised."

"You look like a Cali-girl," observed Morris.

I chuckled. "You'd be surprised how few blondes there actually are there. What about you? Where are you from?"

"I grew up in northeastern Kentucky, just a few miles from Huntington, West Virginia," answered Morris.

¨Are you a Journalism major like Jackson?"

"No, Tech Ed. Stewart wants to be a professional celebrity-stalker. It sounds like fun, but not something I'd make my life's work."

"Really? So how'd the two of you meet?"

"Not a very interesting story there," answered Morris. "I posted a Roommate Wanted ad on Craigslist, and Stewart answered. I picked him because he was willing to pay for a whole year in advance."

"Good a reason as any, I suppose," I commented.

"What about you?" asked Morris. "Do you go to school?"

"I went to CUNY, " I responded. "I didn't have a major, though. It's just as well; It didn't work out, anyway."

"Pardon me for saying so," noted Morris. "But New York is a hell of a long way to go and not declare a major."

I sighed. "I only went to be with my ex,¨ I explained, still getting used to thinking of Oliver as such. "But that's over now. I was actually headed back to California when I broke down....spectacularly."

"Where's your car now?" asked Morris.

"Assuming they haven't impounded it, it's still sitting on the shoulder on I-40," I informed him. "I'm sure my mother will be thrilled to get a phone call from the Tennessee state cops."

"Would you excuse me a minute?" requested Morris. I nodded in agreement, and he went into the bedroom to make a phone call, emerging about five minutes later.

"Good news," explained Morris. "That was my friend Leon. His dad rents moving vans, and he said he can let us have a tow-trailer as long as we have it back by morning. Even if we can't salvage your car, we can at least get it off the road."

"That's awesome!" I exclaimed. "Thank you so much!"

"Least I can do for a friend of Stewart's. Ah, speak of the devil," said Morris as Jackson came in.

"You're home early," observed Jackson.

"Yeah, funny story," replied Morris. "Leave your coat on. We've got work to do."

We hopped in Morris' truck and headed over to the rental place. Leon and his brother Darryl hooked up the tow-trailer, then jumped in the back of the truck, and we took off. Driving down the highway, I sat between the two roommates, and took stock of the similarities and differences between them. Morris had a much darker complexion than Jackson's, and had a good four inches on him height-wise.

Seeing how similar they were made me realize how Jackson had changed since I saw him last. Jackson kept his hair trimmed much more neatly than he used to, and had a much better sense of color-coordination and style in the way he dressed. Of course, sitting this close to him made me notice the most drastic change of all: He actually smelled nice. I couldn't decide whether to attribute the new Jackson to Morris having rubbed off on him, or just having some time to grow up.

"So he got you a ticket to the Lakers game?" asked Morris after hearing one of my many stories about Jackson.

"Oh, not just that," I elaborated. "He got my face on the Jumbotron and got the whole crowd to sing Happy Birthday for me."

"Stewart, you've got class," approved Morris.

Jackson grinned. "About time somebody noticed."

I laughed, happy to know that the new and improved Jackson Stewart was still Jackson.

We arrived a short time later, relieved to find the car right where we left it. We had to contend with a slight incline, so it took all four guys to push the car onto the trailer, leaving me to steer. The idea scared me at first, but we pulled it off without a hitch. In no time at all, we were back on the road.

"I can't think you guys enough for helping me get my car," I said. "Though I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it now."

"Leon and Darryl have a little extra space on their back lot," informed Morris.

"Good," I replied. "That should at least give me some time to figure out how to tell my mom what happened."

"Well, like Morris said, you're welcome to stay with us as long as you want," reiterated Jackson. "Though the sleeping arrangements might be a little tricky."

"I appreciate it," I reemphasized. "So what do people do for fun around here?"

"Well, now that you mention it," noted Jackson, "Morris' _a capella_ group is performing on Sunday.

"Really?" I asked, intrigued by the idea.

"Yeah, they'll probably be happy that I'll actually be able make rehearsal this week," commented Morris. "But it should be a good show."

"Well, Jackson," I invited, "Shall we?"

"We shall," replied Jackson, funny as ever with his fake snooty accent.

Once we'd dropped the car and the tow-trailer off, we returned to the apartment and contemplated sleeping arrangements. After considering several different arrangements, including one that basically involved exchanging all of the living room furniture with that in the bedroom, we settled upon moving the coffee table and a chair into the bedroom so Morris' bed could be moved into the living room. The guys would sleep in the living room, with Jackson on the couch, and Morris in his own bed, and I would have the bedroom to myself, sleeping in Jackson's bed. I would've been fine sleeping on the couch, but the guys did their best to outdo each other in chivalry.

The next few days kept both guys pretty busy, leaving me to fend for myself. I decided to take the opportunity to go exploring. Magdeburg, Tennessee proved to be a prime example of a sleepy little college town. The town itself sat in a deep, narrow valley, along both banks of a small river with a long Indian name I could never remember. A single bridge crossed the river, carrying state highway 112, Charlemagne Street, the main drag. On the other side of the valley, that street changed names to University Boulevard, where it worked its way up the hill to the Tennessee University campus, which sat on a cliff overlooking the town. A single bus route, catering mainly to college students and senior citizens, served the community.

As I walked through the business district, I happened upon a small office supplies store with a "Help Wanted" sign in the window. I had no idea how long I'd be staying, but since I'd worked in the campus bookstore at City College the previous semester, I figured it wouldn't hurt to put in an application. As it turned out, the owner was in that day, and interviewed me on the spot. He said that most of the people who had already applied were college students who couldn't work the hours he needed. As such, the job was mine for the asking. I asked if I could have a day to think about it, and he agreed.

As I explored down by the river, I found a small park. Among the scattered trees were situated a number of items one might expect to find in a city park. The one thing that particularly interested me was the playground....a real playground. It consisted of old-fashioned structures like slides, monkey bars, and a swing-set, made of metal and wood, with dirt under them and surrounded by grass. I don't think I'd ever seen such a playground before.

Wanting to take in the simple pleasures this place offered, I sat down on one of the swings. I gave myself a good kick-start, launched myself into the air, and pumped my legs to go higher and higher. At the highest point, I could see through the branches of the leafless trees for a spectacular view of the northern end of town, and the river bend beyond. I closed my eyes and imagined I was flying.

I must have swung for half an hour. The combination of the frosty February air and the wind whipping across my skin gave me quite a chill. Still, it had been one of the most liberating experiences of my entire life. In fact, there was something about this town that made me feel free. More than that, it made me feel safe. That left only one thing to look into.

I made my way back to the apartment as quickly as possible. Once there, I booted up my laptop and found the Tennessee University admissions website. By some miracle, I managed to arrange a campus tour and admissions counseling appointment for that Friday.

I expected Jackson home around eight that evening, so I decided to start dinner. Cooking wasn't exactly my strong-suit, but I managed to throw together a decent spaghetti dinner. Jackson arrived shortly before I finished cooking.

"Something smells good," complimented Jackson as he walked in the door.

"Yeah, I put in a little potassium cyanide," I jested. "Gives it light almond flavor."

Jackson chucked. "You know how to treat a dude right."

"So where's Morris?"

"Oh, we probably won't see much of him for the next few days," explained Jackson. "He's got a ton of classwork to get caught up on."

"That sucks," I sympathized.

"Yeah, better him than me," kidded Jackson.

Jackson and I both served ourselves and sat down to eat.

"So what have you been up to today?" asked Jackson.

"Did some exploring around town," I answered, not quite finished chewing.

"I'm sure that didn't take long," said Jackson. "There's not much to it."

"Actually, I think it's kind of charming," I said. "In fact, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Sure, what's up?"

"Well, while I was out exploring, I put in an application down at McLean's," I announced.

"The office supply store down on Decklin?"

I nodded. "They said the job was mine if I wanted it. Plus, I have a campus tour scheduled for Friday."

"So what you're saying is, you're thinking about staying awhile," deduced Jackson.

"Well, yeah," I confirmed. "I mean, I could go back to California, take a few classes at MCC. But for the first time in my life, I've got a chance to try something different. Something just for me. I really don't want to be a burden, but I'd really like to give this place a try."

"Sounds good to me," approved Jackson.

"You really don't mind having me around?" I asked.

"It'll be an adjustment," admitted Jackson. "But I meant what I said when I said you were welcome to stay."

I smiled at Jackson. "You're awesome, Jackson. I'm sorry I never said that back in California."

"Thanks," said Jackson. "That really means a lot coming from you."

It's funny how quickly things can change. Two days ago, Tennessee seemed like a place where I'd been hopelessly stranded in my botched attempt to escape my life in New York. Now, it was starting to feel a bit like home.

**End of Chapter Three**

_Magdeburg, Tennessee is a completely made-up town for a made-up University. It's based loosely upon Clarion and California, two college towns in Pennsylvania. Also, I really like London Tipton, but I can see how someone who doesn't know her very well would get the impression Lilly and Morris had. Stay tuned!_


	4. Not Quite Like Old Times

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Four: Not Quite Like Old Times

_From the memoirs of Jackson Stewart:_

Lilly started her new job on Thursday, and had her campus tour on Friday. She came home that evening with a huge smile on her face. Not just any smile, mind you. It was that dreamy, starry-eyed smile she got whenever she was really excited. It was something I hadn't seen in awhile, and was glad to see again, finally.

"Well, you look like you enjoyed yourself," I observed as Lilly hung up her coat.

"Why didn't you tell me this place was so awesome?" beamed Lilly.

"You kind of have to experience it for yourself," I answered.

"Don't get me wrong, USC was a good school, but it felt about as personal as the DMV," noted Lilly. "Same deal with CUNY. Around here, people are so friendly and helpful. It's a real community."

"I'm glad you approve," I responded. "Have you started your application yet?"

"Started and finished," added Lilly. "I just need to submit some paperwork, and I'll be all set. Best thing is, I'll still technically be a freshman when I start next semester, so I'm actually getting a better financial aid package than I had at CUNY."

"Can't beat that with a stick," I responded. "Have you talked to your mom about it yet?"

Lilly shook her head. "I'm hoping I can work this out without her help. I'm hoping she'll go easier on me if I clean up my own mess. I don't think she'll be too happy about the car, though."

"Maybe," I argued. "Or maybe she'll understand that it would've broken down eventually, anyway. You should give her the benefit of the doubt."

Lilly smiled. "You're right."

Lilly spent a few moments in quiet contemplation.

"You haven't told Miley I'm here, have you?" asked Lilly.

"No, I haven't," I answered honestly. "And I'm not going to."

I walked up to Lilly and put my arms around her shoulders.

"Your relationship with Miley is between you and her," I continued. "And my friends are my business. And whatever happens, I'll always be your friend."

With that, Lilly threw her arms around me, and drew me in for a hug. We drew apart slightly, just enough for me to be hypnotized by her sea-green eyes. My eyes began to close as our faces drew closer together, and I almost had them closed when she turned her face away.

"I should be getting to bed," noted Lilly. "I have to be at work at 10 tomorrow."

"I should too," I replied.

I took my toothbrush and brushed my teeth in the kitchen sink, leaving the bathroom to Lilly. By the time she finished showering, I was already in bed (so to speak.)

"Good night, Jackson," said Lilly as she headed for her room.

"Good night, Lilly,¨ I replied.

_Yeah, _I thought to myself as soon as she shut the door. _Like I'm really gonna sleep after that!_

The following evening, I met up with Morris down at the student rec center.

"Hey Stewart," greeted Morris, having already snagged a pool table. "Thought you were bringing Lilly."

"She's working an extra shift," I explained. "She needs the money."

"Just you and me then," noted Morris. "Your break."

I manged to sink a few balls of both types. I managed to sink the 9-ball in the corner pocket on my next shot, meaning I was stripes for this round. My game got progressively worse from there on out. Oddly enough, so did Morris'.

"You're a little off your game tonight, Stewart," commented Morris.

"So are you," I countered.

"I think we're both a little distracted," theorized Morris.

"You're right," I agreed. "You're still trying to get caught up from that cruise, and I'm still getting caught up from Monday night."

"Don't be a dumbass, Stewart," chided Morris. "You know exactly what, or should I say _who_, I'm talking about."

"What, Lilly?" I guessed.

"Um, _yeah_."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I denied. "Lilly's my best friend, but there's nothing going on between us."

"Oh, I know that," argued Morris. "But you've got the hots for her. Don't try and deny it."

"She's good-looking," I admitted. "I'll give you that much. "

"Good-looking? Dude, she's a four-alarm hottie! You're batting for the other team if you don't wanna tap that. I know I do!"

Morris wasn't exactly what I'd call a perfect gentleman, Neither was I, for that matter. But this proved to be one of those rare occasions when he'd managed to seriously piss me off. I set down my cue stick, walked over to Morris, and got in his face.

"Listen up, Morris," I instructed. "If you like having your bones intact, you'd better watch what you say about Lilly around me. "

"Frakkin'A, Stewart!" gasped Morris. "You're not just hot for Lilly; you're in love with her."

"You just keep talking..." I began to threaten.

"Dammit, Stewart!" cursed Morris. "Wake up and smell the bullshit you're shoveling! Lilly's a woman. She's got needs. Make a move on her. For her sake as well as yours."

I backed away. "Dude, she's been single less than a month."

"Yeah, almost a month," argued Morris. "She's ready to move on."

"There's other things," I countered. "Things I can't talk about. Just trust me when I say she doesn't need a relationship right now. And she needs a rebound shag even less."

"Maybe you're right," granted Morris. "But sooner or later, she'll be ready to get back on the horse. The question is, will it be you she's riding, or some random asshole who's going to break her heart again."

"Whatever, dude," I dismissed, throwing down my cue stick.

"What about the game?" called Morris as I stomped off.

"I forfeit!" I called back, not turning around.

I wasn't too happy with Morris the next day, but Lilly still wanted to see his show, and I couldn't very well tell her what had gone down the previous evening. So I donned my best shirt and slacks for an evening out, and Lilly donned a modest, but elegant dress in a shade of green that really brought out her eyes. Her eyes weren't the only thing it brought out.

Lilly had been in the fifth grade, and I'd been in seventh grade when we first met. At the time, she was a scrawny, tomboyish skater girl. For the next few years, that image got stuck in my head, and overlaid the young woman she'd become. After my chat with Morris, all that came crashing down.

The Lilly I found myself suddenly remembering from high school had certainly been easy on the eyes. The Lilly standing before me that night, on the other hand, couldn't be described as anything less than gorgeous. She'd obviously put on the Freshman Fifteen, and she carried it very nicely, especially in the boobs.

This was going to be a hard night, in more ways than one.

We arrived just before the show started. Morris' group, Las Voces, took the stage and performed a number of different pop tunes (including a Hannah Montana song or two,) using their voices both for singing and instrumentation. I'd heard most of them before, but Lilly seemed to be enjoying herself. Near the end of the show, the twins Leon and Darryl came front and center, meaning it was time for my favorite number.

"Hey, y'all," greeted Leon. "How many of y'all are from Tennessee?"

A number of people, including me, cheered.

"Aight, then," said Leon. "Ima sing a song about Tennessee."

Morris, always the master of the beat-box, started the song off. Leon and Darryl came in a few bars later, performing in a style more chant than rap.

_Lord I've really been real stressed  
Down and out, losing ground  
Although I am black and proud  
Problems got me pessimistic  
Brothers and sisters keep messing up  
Why does it have to be so damn tough?  
I don't know where I can go  
To let these ghosts out of my skull  
My grandmas past, my brothers gone  
I never at once felt so alone  
I know You're supposed to be my steering wheel  
Not just my spare tire (home)  
But lord I ask You (home)  
To be my guiding force and truth (home)  
For some strange reason it had to be (home)  
He guided me to Tennessee (home)_  
For the chorus, they switched from chanting to singing:

_Take me to another place  
Take me to another land  
Make me forget all that hurts me  
Let me understand Your plan_

As per usual, that piece got a standing ovation.

"Wow," marveled Lilly as we walked back to my car. "I had no idea Morris was so talented."

"Yeah," I answered flatly. "He's really something."

At the time, I cursed genetics for giving Miley all of the musical talent.

"Looks to me like somebody's a little jealous," observed Lilly.

"What? Me jealous?" I protested. "No way!"

"Relax, Jackson," admonished Lilly. "It's okay. I don't have any musical talent, either."

"Oh," I said, relieved that Lilly hadn't drawn the conclusion I thought she had. "Yeah, you got me there."

"By the way," mentioned Lilly, changing the subject. "Some of Morris' friends from Las Voces invited us to go to a party with them up in Sectorville tomorrow night."

"That's cool," I said. "You should go."

"Don't you want to go to?" offered Lilly.

"Nah, I shouldn't," I declined. "I have a have an eight o'clock class on Tuesday."

"Oh," said Lilly, obviously disappointed. "Well, I'll be sure and say hi to everybody for you."

"You do that," I replied.

Truth was, I didn't want Lilly to go to that party, either. But I know that she really wanted to go, and I couldn't stop her. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it would be good for her to get out and have some fun. And I had no right to tell her she couldn't hang out with Morris. I just didn't particularly care to watch.

We returned to the apartment a few minutes later. As I suspected, Morris had gone home with some of his Los Voces buddies, and would be out for the night. I felt relieved, as I wasn't sure I could be in the same room with him right then.

"Jackson," said Lilly, just before we started our normal bedtime ritual. "I just wanted to say I really had a good time." She kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I replied. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I tucked myself into Morris' bed, not watching as Lilly emerged from the bathroom and proceeded to bed. Loathe as I was to admit it, Morris was right. I didn't know when, or how, or why, but somewhere along the way, I'd fallen in love with Lilly Truscott.

**End of Chapter Four**

Song Credit:

"Tennessee¨  
Written by Speech  
Originally performed by Arrested Development  
From the album _3 Years, 5 Months & 2 Days in the Life Of... _(1992)


	5. The Grass is Always Greener

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Five: The Grass is Always Greener

_From the memoirs of Lilly Truscott:_

Morris told me this party had a strictly casual dress code, which was a relief, since I didn't have much in the way of party clothes. I figured I couldn't go wrong with a simple black top and blue jeans, so I was actually ready before Morris was. I had to admit, he looked damn spiffy in his hunter green short-sleeve shirt over white t-shirt.

"How do I look?" I asked Jackson.

"Awesome," he said, sincerity mixed with sorrow.

I'd been trying to figure out what was bothering him, but he just didn't seem to be in a talking mood. Before I could give it any more thought, Morris got a TXT.

"Our ride's here," announced Morris.

"Have a good time," said Jackson as we left.

Our ride showed up in the vehicle I least expected: a '72 Vista Cruiser. Morris opened the door for me, and I got in and slid across the back seat to the other side. Morris hopped in after me, and we headed off.

"Hey guys," greeted Morris. "This is my new friend Lilly. She's a friend of Stewart's from Malibu. Lilly, this is Angel, her boyfriend Derek, and his friend Dan," introduced Morris, referring to the girl at the wheel, and the two guys in the front with her. It seemed a little odd to me that they'd let Morris and I have the backseat to ourselves.

"Nice to meet all of you," I greeted.

"So I guess we could call you 'Lilly of the Valley,'" commented Dan, which earned him a slap on the back of the head from Derek.

"Hey!" protested Dan.

"Malibu's on the coast, dumbass!" admonished Derek.

"I thought it was pretty clever," I complimented, having referred to myself as such in the past.

We talked about their experiences together in Las Voces for the first few miles. We then moved on to the Reader's Digest version of my life story. I left Oliver out of most of it, partly because I was sure they didn't want to hear about my problems, but mostly because I didn't want to think about him.

"Hey, you know what this car reminds me of?" I observed.

"What's that?" asked Derek.

"_That '70s Show_," I elaborated.

"Cool," said Morris. "I wouldn't have figured you for a fan."

"Oh yeah," I continued. "I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid, even though my mom wouldn't let me."

"Sneaking off to watch network television," commented Derek. "You were a wild child!"

"Shut up," chided Angel, elbowing her boyfriend in the ribs, before changing the tune on her MP3 player. "You're gonna love this."

I heard the familiar build-up, and before we knew it, we were all banging our heads, swaying our shoulders, and singing:

_Hanging out  
Down the street  
The same old thing  
We did last week  
Not a thing to do  
But talk to you_

_ We're all alright  
We're all alright_

About half an hour later, we arrived at a farm house in the middle of BFE, with cars parked haphazardly all over the property. As we got close to the house, I could hear Lady Gaga blaring at max volume.

"Now whatever you do, don't go down in the basement," cautioned Morris as we walked in the door.

"What's down in the basement?" I asked.

"Trust me, you don't wanna know." Morris changed the subject. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"A beer would be great," I requested.

"Coming right up."

Morris returned promptly with our drinks, and we moved into the living room, where a crowd had gathered to watch some kid (who'd clearly already had few) break dancing like the eighties never ended. I'd never seen anything so hilarious in my entire life. His routine ended when he didn't time one of his flips correctly, and landed flat on his face. I couldn't help but laugh, but I did help him up.

"Wow," the inebriated young man marveled. "You're pretty."

"Thanks," I chuckled. "You've got some moves."

"I do, don't I," said the kid, really creeping out as he started to grind on me. "Why don't you let me show you some of my best moves."

"You're really not my type," I refused.

"Ah, come on, babe," he insisted. "What happens on the farm _stays _on the farm!"

The kid cried out in pain as I pushed down on the pressure-point on his shoulder with my forefinger (a trick Miley had taught me for dealing with some of the more aggressive fans.) After about a minute, he passed out, garnering applause from a few people.

I spent the next hour or so talking to various people of various levels of intoxication about absolutely nothing in as many words as possible. I went looking for Morris, who I found engrossed in a game of beer pong. Not wanting to spoil his fun, I sought out someone else to chat with. As I looked around, I walked past the basement door, where I noticed a bit of smoke coming out from under the door. My curiosity got the better of me, and against Morris' warning, I headed downstairs.

I followed the sound of people talking, and I found Angel, Dan, Derek, and a couple of guys I didn't know, gathered around a table of snacks in a comfortable sitting room.

"There's nothing going on down here!" defended Dan, as they were all startled by my entrance.

"Oh please," I retorted. "I'm from California. I can smell reefer a mile away."

"Dan, don't be rude," admonished Derek. "Lilly, why don't you join in our conversation?"

"Um, sure," I accepted, taking a seat between Dan and Derek.

"In case you hadn't noticed, we're the college kids your mom warned you about," noted Angel, who looked and sounded more than a little baked. The bong came around to Dan, who passed it over me to Derek.

"Dan, what'd I tell you about being rude?" scolded Derek.

"Dude, what'd I do?"

"It's impolite to pass the bong without offering the lady a hit," explained Derek. "Lilly, would you care to partake?"

Other than the occasional drink, I'd never used any sort of mind-altering substance. Hell, I'd never so much as smoked a cigarette! I'd passed up many such opportunities in high school and college. Don't get me wrong; I never thought pot-smoking was inherently evil. I just always figured it was something girls like me didn't do.

"Girls like me." Just what the hell did that mean, anyway? I realized right then that I'd spent the last two years trying to be what I thought Miley and Oliver wanted me to be. Now that I'd lost both of them, it didn't matter anymore. I wasn't about to reinvent myself, but dammit, I was entitled to break character every once in awhile!

"Frak it all to hell!" I cursed as I took the device from Derek and inhaled deeply. The feeling of the smoke filling my lungs was a strange, yet not altogether unpleasant sensation. That changed as the particulates began to settle, sending me into a fit in which I nearly coughed up a lung.

"Damn, girl!" exclaimed Angel. "Take it easy!"

The group stared at me in silence, waiting to see what would happen. Then I started thinking. Thinking so hard and so fast that I couldn't stop. I started remembering answers to tests I'd studied for back in the fifth grade, among other things.

"Are you okay?" asked Derek.

"Okay?" I beamed. "I'm better than okay! I just figured out how to travel faster than light."

"Bullshit!" dismissed Dan.

"No, seriously!" I argued. "What you need is an antimatter reaction, controlled by a dilithium matrix, transferred by a system of plasma conduits to a series of coils, which emit an incredibly powerful graviton field, propelling the ship by warping the fabric of space-time. It's so simple! I can't believe I didn't think of it before!"

The group sat silent for another moment, then burst out laughing.

"You're alright, Lilly," declared Derek, patting me on the back.

Some of the things we talked about that evening defy description. One thing led to another, and we ended up playing a game of Truth or Dare. Now, the interesting thing about playing that game under the influence of marijuana is people almost always pick truth. I was no exception.

"Lilly, truth or dare," challenged Dan.

"Truth," I chose.

"Okay, I assume you're not into girls."

"You would be correct," I confirmed. "Is that your question?"

"No," continued Derek. "My question is, if you got a chance to do it with any female celebrity, who would you pick?"

"Oh, that's easy!" I responded quickly. "Hannah Montana, no contest!"

The group cheered.

"You know what I think?" theorized Derek. "I think Hannah Montana isn't real."

I laughed. "What the frak? Of course she's real! I've been to her concerts."

"No, I mean that's her secret identity," clarified Derek. "You know that girl Jake Ryan dated...what's her name...Milly?"

"Miley," I corrected.

"Yeah, her. I think she and Hannah Montana are the same person."

The group laughed. It took everything I had not to say anything.

"I'm serious! Her manager created that identity for her. You know, so she could go to the mall and school and shit and not have fans pawing at her all the time."

"We'd better take that bong away from Derek," I laughed. "I think he's had enough!"

Some time later, Derek and Angel had dropped out of the conversation, and had gotten into a serious groping session.

"I think we'd better give those two some privacy," I suggested. The two other guys nodded and headed up. I started up, then doubled back to grab Dan.

"Aw, man!" protested Dan. "I wanted to watch!"

If I'd had my wits about me, I'd have seen a disaster area of a house, with beer cups and snack foods all over the floor and the furniture, and drunken college students lounging or passed out in various positions.

Instead, I saw a bright, beautiful, ethereal dwelling, populated by shiny, happy, beautiful people, who all smiled and waved hello, as I walked through in slow motion, with Louis Armstrong singing in the background:

_I see trees of green  
Red roses, too  
I see them bloom  
For me and you_

_And I think to myself  
What a wonderful world_

_I see skies of blue  
And clouds of white  
The bright, blessed days  
The dark, sacred nights_

_And I think to myself  
What a wonderful world_

As I wandered through my drug-induced wonderland, I heard Morris' voice coming from the dining room.

"Six is for dicks!" called Morris. I found him with some other people, playing some sort of card game.

"Three is for me!" announced another guy, who took a swig of his drink.

I would later learn that the game was called "Circle of Death," and that it didn't have any real object or rules other than to give people excuses to chug their drinks. In the state I was in, the rules seemed incredibly complex and nuanced.

"Oh hey, Lilly!" greeted Morris. "Having fun?"

"Are you kidding?" I answered. "This is awesomest frakking party ever!" I turned around to face the people in the living room. "Isn't that right, people?"

"Huzzah!" I imagined them cheering, with a raise of their glasses. In reality, those who were still conscious managed a non-committal grunt at best.

"Well, come with me," said Morris as he stood up and offered me his hand. "I've got something to show you."

Morris took me by the hand and led me along a hallway, in which I saw the floral patterns coming out of the walls and blooming into actual flowers. That is, I imagined him leading me by the hand. In reality, he sort of nudged me along, leaning on me for support. I should've known right then what Morris had in mind, but I was too caught up in the elegant surrealism of the experience to think it through logically.

Morris opened one of the doors, where he found another couple already in action.

"Wrong door," shouted Morris, slamming it shut and leading me to the end of the hall, where we managed to find a vacant room.

"So," I said as he closed the door behind us. "What did you want to show me?"

"This," said Morris as he began kissing up and down my neck. His technique was extremely sloppy and haphazard, but from my perspective at the time, he was an expert. When his hand found its way onto my ass, I had a moment of lucidity.

"Morris," I said. "Morris." I repeated louder.

"What?" he replied.

"We shouldn't do this."

"No," said Morris, doing his best to look me in the eyes. "I really think we should."

He dove in for some more necking and groping, and I got caught up in it again before regaining my wits for another moment.

"Morris, stop!" I demanded.

"What, you're not enjoying this?" he asked.

"That's not the point," I answered, avoiding his question. "I told you, I just got out of a relationship."

"You said you weren't interested in dating," he argued. "You didn't say a damn thing about sex."

As tanked as Morris was, he still had gorgeous hazel eyes, tanned skin even in February, and a chiseled physique. Also, I learned that evening that marijuana is an aphrodisiac. I hadn't felt the itch between my legs that badly since I'd first started dating Oliver. Added to the fact that I hadn't had sex in almost two months, it was just too much. I surrendered, and began to reciprocate Morris' groping.

After a few minutes of this, Morris literally threw me on the bed. I imagined in my pot-induced trance that he was slowly and deliberately undressing me. In retrospect, the real reason he was so slow was his drunken state left him without the coordination to do it properly. It gave me time to think.

I was going to have sex with Henry Morris! For a moment, it seemed like such a magical, romantic notion. Then I realized that he would be the only guy I'd ever slept with besides Oliver. Oliver Oken. The image of his smug, lying face killed the mood enough to bring me back to reality. As much as I hated Oliver, he'd at least been responsible enough to insist we double up on protection. As it was, I'd stopped taking my birth control pills when we broke up. I still had condoms in my purse, which I realized I'd left downstairs, far out of reach.

I sure as hell didn't want to get pregnant. Having to deal with that was the last thing I needed right then. Also, while Morris seemed like a nice guy, I really had no idea where he'd been. The cannabis had squelched my conscience for a while there, but right then, it was coming through loud and clear. This was wrong, and it had to stop.

"Morris!" I yelled. "Morris, stop!"

Morris didn't seem to hear me, and kept trying to unhook my bra strap.

"You stupid son of a bitch! I said _stop!_" I screamed as I mustered up all of my strength and shoved Morris off the bed.

"Lilly, wait," said Morris, starting to get up as I pulled my shirt back down.

As I ran down the hall and back out into the living room, my ethereal paradise turned into a runaway train-ride through hell. I kept reminding myself it wasn't real as I ran downstairs and grabbed my purse, trying my best not to look at anything that might be going on down there.

As I came back up, I ran into Morris.

"What's wrong?" slurred Morris. "I thought we were having a good time."

"Leave me alone, Morris!" I pleaded.

I pulled my phone out of my purse, only to have my mind start racing again, such that I couldn't think of how to call or TXT. Morris kept trying to put his arms around my shoulders, and I kept trying to shrug him off. In hindsight, I realized I should've used the pressure point trick on him while I still had the chance. Now I could risk it, lest he get the upper hand.

"Morris, please!" I pleaded.

"Hey, dickwad!" called Jackson from behind. "Lilly just told you to stop."

"Stay out of this, Stewart!" ordered Morris. "You've got no right."

"The way I see it, you've got none at all, so I have more than you," countered Jackson.

"Oh, is that how it is?" retorted Morris as he turned around and pushed Jackson.

I wanted to take the opportunity to run out of there and get as far away from that party as possible. But I knew I couldn't. Jackson had come to my rescue yet again. It was time for me to start being the friend he was to me. The boys kept shoving each other back and forth, and it looked as though it might escalate into a fist-fight. This kept Morris distracted just long enough for me to collect my wits and push down on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, Morris wasn't as vulnerable as most to this attack, and he grabbed me by the forearm. Just as he was about to pull my arm out of socket, Jackson delivered a blow to Morris' solar plexus, passing out from pain combined with shortness of breath. Jackson took me by the arm and escorted me out.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not at all meaning to sound ungrateful.

"I was worried you might get stranded without a ride," answered Jackson. "I had no idea you'd get into this much trouble."

As I rode back to Magdeburg, everything started to speed up. The headlights of passing cars zoomed by like something out of _Star Wars_.

"Jackson, please slow down!" I begged.

"I'm only going five miles over the limit, Lilly!" defended Jackson. "Here, look: Now I'm only going 35."

If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn the speedometer was lying. Suddenly, my heart started pounding and racing like submachine gun. I suddenly felt incredibly hot, and started to sweat in large drops. I opened the window, only to have Jackson close it on.

"You'll get hypothermia if you do that," warned Jackson.

"Take me to the hospital, Jackson!" I requested.

"You don't need to go to the hospital," assured Jackson.

"I'm gonna die!" I declared as I started to cry.

Jackson took my hand in his. "You're not gonna die, Lilly. And believe me, the last thing you need is anybody else knowing you've been doing drugs."

"How did you know?" I asked.

"I can smell it on your clothes," explained Jackson. "We'll have to bury that outfit."

I don't remember going to bed. I do remember having a nightmare that I can't even begin to describe, nor do I want to. I woke up screaming, still sweating, with my heart still racing. Jackson came quickly to my aid.

"What's wrong?" asked Jackson, coming quickly to my aid.

"I can't take it anymore!" I cried. "Make it stop, Jackson!"

"Just hang in there," encouraged Jackson, sitting behind me and putting his arms around me. "You'll be okay."

"Don't leave me," I pleaded.

" I won't," promised Jackson. "Not ever."

**End of Chapter Five**

Song Credits:

"What a Wonderful World"  
Written by R. Thiele & G.D. Weiss  
Performed by Louis Armstrong  
From the album _What a Wonderful World _(1968)

"That '70s Song (In the Street)"  
Written by A. Chilton & C. Bell  
Performed by Cheap Trick  
From the soundtrack of _That '70s Show _(1998)

_Like its protagonist, this chapter has been to hell and back. Special thanks to Lodylodylody and TARDISgirl192 for their input. Stay tuned!_


	6. The Fallout

_Note for my international readers: The "Freshman Fifteen" (also known as the "Freshman Ten" and the"Freshman Twenty") refers to the tendency here in the States of first-year college and university students to gain weight, usually on the order of 10-20 lbs (5-9 kg), probably due to the poor nutritional value of dining hall food, and a more sedentary lifestyle due to intense amounts of studying._

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Six: The Fallout

_From the memoirs of Jackson Stewart:_

I really didn't feel like going to class the next morning. But I had no choice. As it was, I was borrowing notes off of five different people, trying to make sense of what I'd missed. Missing any more classes would put me in danger of failing. But I also didn't want to abandon Lilly. I'd never felt so conflicted in my entire life. The last thing I expected was for her to solve my dilemma.

Lilly emerged from the bedroom, looking like she'd just gone ten rounds with a kangaroo. Yet, for some reason, it didn't make her any less beautiful. She went into the bathroom and came out just as I was getting ready to leave.

"How do I look?" asked Lilly.

"You look good," I replied.

Lilly chuckled. "You always were a lousy liar Jackson. Brutal honesty: How do I look?"

"A little heavy on the makeup," I said honestly.

Lilly sighed. "I know. But I'd rather look like an android than a corpse."

"I can't believe you're actually going to work," I noted.

"What else am I supposed to do?" argued Lilly. "Sit around here and mope."

"Point taken," I agreed.

"Could I get a lift?" requested Lilly.

I nodded in agreement, and we headed out. Normally, she walked the mile to work, but I could definitely see why she didn't want to this time.

"You know, we're gonna have to do something about Morris," I noted as we rode.

"Ugh," reviled Lilly. "I don't ever want to see that creep again. I'll get my own place. I'll move back to California. Anything."

"Just leave him to me," I offered.

A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of McLean's Office Supplies.

"Thanks," said Lilly. "For everything."

I nodded. "Give me a call if you need anything. I'll leave my phone on."

"I really screwed up, didn't I?" regretted Lilly.

"Honestly?" I asked.

Lilly nodded.

"Yeah, you did," I admitted. "But I'll do what I can to help make things right."

Lilly leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. "You're the best. I'm sorry it took me so long to see that."

I smiled. "Better late than never."

It took everything I had to concentrate in my two classes that morning. Words can't describe my relief when I found out my one o'clock class was canceled. Just as I arrived at home and settled in for a nap, the last person I wanted to see came through the door.

"Oh, it's you," I growled. "I hope you're not looking for a fight. I really don't feel like kicking your ass right now."

"No, I'm not looking for a fight," assured Morris. "Actually, I just came to get my stuff. I'm staying with Dan and Derek until the end of the semester."

"By all means!" I agreed, wanting nothing more than to have Morris out of the apartment.

"Is Lilly around?" asked Morris.

"She doesn't want to talk to you," I informed him.

Morris hung his head. "Can't say that I blame her. I really screwed up."

"Screwed up?" I echoed. "You almost raped a girl who was stoned off her ass and feeling vulnerable...not just any girl, but _my friend_...and 'screwed up' is the best you can come up with?"

"Look, dude," argued Morris. "I sure as hell am not proud of what I did. But the first time I ever saw Lilly, she was full-frontal nude. I have had that image burned into my brain ever since. Having her living under my roof was just too much. For real, dude, can you honestly tell me you could've passed up an opening like that?"

"An opening?" I countered. "Cripes, man, listen to yourself! You're talking about her like a piece of meat! And you wouldn't have that visual if you'd given Lilly some privacy."

"Well, I bloody-well would have if you'd let me know she was coming," retorted Morris.

"And you could've told me you were coming home early," argued Morris.

"It's my place, Stewart," countered Morris. "I can come and go as I damn-well please."

"Not anymore," I declared. "So why don't you just gather up your shit and get out of here before Lilly sees you."

"Gladly."

It us about an hour to load up Morris' truck. As little as I wanted to help him, I wanted him gone as quickly as possible. Finally, we exchanged keys, and Morris headed out for the last time.

"Just one more think, Stewart," said Morris.

"Yeah, what?"

"You'd better pull your head out of your ass concerning Lilly," warned Morris. "Or you'll end up hurting her worse than I did."

"Just one thing I've gotta know," I asked. "If you were gonna be such a dick, why'd you help Lilly get her car?"

"Because up until now, you were my friend," answered Morris as he headed out. "Somehow, I always knew a woman would come between us. Have a nice life, Stewart."

And there it was. Morris was out of the picture, just like Lilly and I both wanted. It was the most hollow victory I'd ever achieved.

Later that afternoon, I managed to get my nap, and woke up just in time to pick Lilly up from work. On the way, I stopped by the drive-thru and got us a couple of burgers.

"Is one of those take-out bags for me?" asked Lilly as she buckled in.

"Yeah, I figured neither of us was feeling up to cooking this evening," I noted.

"Good call," said Lilly with her mouth full after taking a bite of her burger. "I'm starving."

It did my heart good to see Lilly starting to return to her old self.

"Morris is gone," I announced as we drove back. "Unfortunately, so is half the rent."

"It's not a problem," Lilly assured me. "I have a job; I can pay rent."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"You kicked him out for me," noted Lilly. "The least I can do is pull my own weight."

I wanted to tell Lilly that Morris had left voluntarily, but I knew I couldn't. It would only complicate things and make her more upset.

On Thursday night, we made a trip up to the Smarty-Mart in Sectorville, for groceries and other provisions. We had a few...how do I put it...spirited discussions, over what types of snack foods we wanted, and what brand of toilet paper to buy. We'd always come to an agreement fairly quickly. It differed quite a bit from the routine Morris and I had had, where we'd split up and each get half the items on the list, in order to save time. With Lilly along, however, I found I actually enjoyed it. After the events of the past week, it felt good to do finally do something mundane and routine with my best friend.

My best friend. Could Lilly and I ever be more than that? Was it even possible? Would even hinting at something more make things awkward and ruin our relationship? Or was Morris right? Would the sexual tension tear us apart if we didn't act on it?

The truth was, I just didn't know. Normally, I'd turn to my father for this sort of advice. I thought maybe I could call him, and describe the situation as abstractly as possible. I quickly scratched that idea. Dad knew Lilly well enough that if I were to describe the situation in even minimal detail, he'd put two and two together and realize that Lilly was here. I'd promised Lilly I'd let her deal with the folks back in California in her own time and on her own terms, and I still believed it was the right way to handle the situation.

As we headed back to Magdeburg, I couldn't help but notice that Lilly had a bag of prescriptions.

"They're birth control patches," volunteered Lilly.

"I see," I replied. "You're not planning on jumping into bed with anybody, are you?"

I immediately kicked myself mentally for even thinking to ask that.

"Not planning, no," elaborated Lilly. "But after that incident with Morris, I'm not sure I trust myself."

"Understandable."

"Besides, one of these days I might start dating again," continued Lilly. "When and if the right time comes, I don't want to be caught off-guard."

"Lilly," I said, "I'm happy to lend an ear, but I'm not sure why you're telling me all this."

Lilly shrugged. "Best friends tell each other these sorts of things. I used to tell Miley about this stuff all the time."

I was suddenly reminded of a line from the Rob Thomas song "Lonely No More," where he sang "Open up to me, like you do your girlfriends." Clearly, the dude didn't know what he was asking. Uncomfortable though I may have been, Lilly needed a confidant, and I wasn't about to let her down. As I thought back upon similar instances between her and Miley, I couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" demanded Lilly, giggling herself.

"I'm sorry, it's not funny," I apologized.

"Come on, tell me," prodded Lilly.

"I was just remembering around this time last year, when you told Miley something big," I recounted. "I never did figure out what it was, but Miley had this look on her face for about a week like she'd seen an old person naked."

Lilly chuckled. "I was telling her about my first time with Oliver. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, and lasted all of five minutes."

I could see why Miley would be traumatized by such a revelation. I managed to shake it off. Mostly.

"So what about you?" asked Lilly.

"What about me?" I asked back, avoiding the question.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't," I lied.

"Come on, Jackson," goaded Lilly. "Fair's fair."

"All right, all right," I capitulated. "It was at a party up in Santa Barbara, back when I was thinking about where I wanted to transfer. Lisa Enriquez was her name. She was a freshman, but let's just say I wasn't her first. I had about seven or eight beers in me. I remember starting; don't remember finishing. Next thing I remember, I'm back in Malibu, in my own bed, with a DEFCON 1 hangover."

Lilly snorted. "How romantic!" she snarked.

I sighed. "Yeah, it was a mistake. But I seem to be good at making them."

"Believe me, I've made more than my share lately," sympathized Lilly.

"Well, everybody makes mistakes," I noted.

"Everybody has those days," added Lilly. "Everybody knows what I'm talkin' 'bout. Everybody gets that way."

With that, we broke out in song:

_ Nobody's Perfect!  
I gotta work it!  
Again and again 'til I get it right  
Nobody's Perfect!  
You live and you learn it!  
And if I mess it up sometimes...  
Nobody's perfect _

Normally, I would've been embarrassed to break out into a Hannah Montana song. But with Lilly, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Afterward, we laughed for most of the trip back.

That Saturday, Lilly and I went up to the student rec center to shoot some pool. Though I won pretty consistently, she wasn't a horrible player, and actually managed to give me some competition.

"Your not too bad at this," I complimented.

"Thanks," accepted Lilly as she sunk one in the corner pocket. "My roommate and I used to play back when I was at CUNY. I had to come up with _something _to do when Oliver canceled our dates."

It was then I noticed that while Oliver's name still came up from time to time, it came up less often. Whenever it did, Lilly still sounded sorrowful, but not nearly as bitter.

"I dunno," I teased. "You could've studied."

"Bah!" retorted Lilly, with the adorable snark I remembered. "What fun would that be?"

We both laughed. I realized then that I'd always loved to hear Lilly laugh, and I always knew something was wrong when she didn't laugh. I began wondering why I'd never noticed this back in California. I'd always had trouble reading women, but Lilly always wore her emotions on her sleeve. That made me angry at Oliver, since I now realized what a jerk he'd been. Lilly had never been unclear about her needs; Oliver just didn't care. It also made me angry with myself. Maybe if I'd pursued her before Oliver could make his move, I could've saved her all of this pain and suffering.

The fact remained, however, that it was all in the past, and I couldn't change any of it. Now, Oliver was history, Lilly was back in my life, and I had another chance to do the right thing by her. There was just one problem: Circumstances had changed so much, I wasn't at all sure what the right thing was.

After beating Lilly five games to three, we decided to call it quits and head back for the night. We'd taken the bus to campus, but since it turned out to be an unusually warm night for February, we decided to walk back.

"I heard from Leon about my car today," reported Lilly as we walked.

"What did he have to say?" I asked.

"The engine's toast, but the body's solid," elaborated Lilly. "He said his dad is willing to give me a few hundred dollars for it."

"Well, at least that's something," I noted.

"Yeah," said Lilly. "But if I don't take him up on it, he wants it off his lot."

"Does that mean...." I began.

"The car's titled in my mom's name," interrupted Lilly. "Which means I'm going to have to call her and find out what she wants to do."

I put a hand on Lilly's shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be okay."

"I'm so not ready for this," lamented Lilly. "But I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"No," I agreed. "I don't see as how you do."

Lilly stopped and turned to face me. "I'd like you to be there with me when I call."

"Do you think it'll help?" I asked.

Lilly nodded. "She knows you, and she trusts you. I think she'll take this a lot better if she knows you're here with me."

I nodded in agreement. "You can count on me."

We got home at about ten thirty, but since it was only eight thirty on the west coast, we decided to call and get it over with. Lilly put the phone on speaker and dialed the number.

"Lilly, honey?" greeted the voice of Heather Truscott

**End of Chapter Six**

Song Credit:

"Nobody's Perfect"  
Written by M. Gerrard & R. Nevil  
Originally performed by Hannah Montana  
From the album _Hannah Montana 2 / Meet Miley Cyrus _(2007)

_I took a break from this story to finish up _My Photonic Friend. _I'm glad to finally dive back into this one. I know where I'm going with this story, but I have no idea how long it will take to get there. Stay tuned!_


	7. Reconciliation

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Seven: Reconciliation

_From the memoirs of Lilly Truscott:_

"Lilly, honey?" greeted my mother's voice. For some reason, it took me by surprise that she knew who it was. After all, I was the one who pointed out the folly of Miley's attempt to impersonate Traci over the phone, as the caller ID was a dead giveaway. No matter. The fact she had answered the phone and seemed pretty chill (for the now, anyway) did a lot to calm my nerves.

"Mom?" I replied. "Oh thank goodness!" With that, I began pouring my heart out. "I'm so sorry I ran off. And I'm sorry I didn't call or write. And I'm sorry I tried to drive back to California..."

"Drive back to California?" interrupted Mom. "Lilly, what happened?"

"Sorry," I apologized. "I'm getting ahead of myself."

From there, I recounted what had happened over the past two months, not leaving out the slightest detail. Given what I put her through, she deserved to know everything.

"Oh my gosh!" she replied.

"I know!" I acknowledged. "I was wrong, and I screwed up, and you were right about everything. I feel horrible about myself."

"Lilly," began mom.

"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to disown me," I interrupted.

"Lilly, honey, I'm not mad at you," assured Mom.

"What?¨ Jackson and I said in unison.

"Jackson Stewart, is that you?" asked Mom.

"Hi, Mrs. T.," said Jackson, grinning sheepishly.

"Jackson's my best friend, mom," I declared. "Anything you have to say, you can say in front of him."

"So Lilly's staying with you?" she asked Jackson.

"Yes, Mrs. T.," replied Jackson. "She has a job; she pays rent."

"Lilly, how long are you planning on staying there?" asked Mom.

I hesitated for a moment. "Until I finish school. I'm all set to start up in the fall. I hope that's okay."

Mom sighed. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you living with a boy."

I groaned in frustration. For such a liberated woman, Mom could be annoyingly old-fashioned at times. "He's not 'a boy', mom; he's Jackson."

"Hey!" protested Jackson, prompting me to stick my tongue out at him.

"Well, in that case, I suppose it's alright," capitulated Mom. "Jackson, have you told your father yet?"

"I haven't," answered Jackson. "But I will."

"Please don't tell the Stewarts anything," I pleaded. "We'd really like to deal with them on our own terms."

"Alright," agreed Mom. "I'll leave that up to you."

"So you're really not mad about the car?" I asked redundantly.

"I'd be lying if I said I was happy about it," admitted Mom. "But I don't see as how that was your fault. How much did you say Mr. Woodruff was offering for it?"

"Eight hundred," I replied.

"Well, you're going to need a new vehicle," observed Mom.

"Mr. Woodruff has a few used cars available," I suggested. "They need work, but I'm sure Leon and Darryl will be willing to help me."

"Tell you what," offered Mom. "When I send the title, I'll tell Mr. Woodruff to keep the money toward the purchase of a used car for you."

"Really?" I asked, not believing my ears.

"You seem pretty serious about being independent and responsible," observed Mom. "Which is a lot better than chasing after Oliver Oken as far as motivations go. I think you should give it a shot."

Mom and I spent the next few minutes discussing logistical details. She also gave Jackson a pretty thorough grilling about what he'd been up to.

"Thanks so much for understanding," I said.

"Thanks for coming clean with me," replied Mom. "Take care, Jackson."

"You too, Mrs. T.," replied Jackson.

"I love you, mom."

"I love you, too, sweetie," she concluded. "Bye bye, now."

I immediately collapsed onto the couch in relief.

"That went better than I thought it would," commented Jackson.

"Tell me about it," I agreed. "By the way, thanks for leaving out the whole 'getting high and almost getting raped' thing."

"Yeah, I didn't think it fit the whole 'mature and responsible' vibe we were trying to convey," noted Jackson.

"It was the dumbest thing I ever did, and I'll never do it again," I promised.

"I know," said Jackson.

I could tell Jackson was still a little disappointed in me about that. In my younger years, I'd always liked Jackson as a friend, but I wouldn't have give a lot of weight to what he thought of me. Now, for reasons I didn't yet understand, I was bound and determined to make it up to him.

"Thanks again,¨ I said.

"What for?" asked Jackson.

"For doing this with me," I elaborated. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Jackson smiled as he put an arm around my shoulder.

"Don't mention it," said Jackson. "What are friends for?"

I smiled as I rested my head on his shoulder. We sat like that for a few minutes before I even realized just how close we were sitting. I mean, that's what best friends do, right? Miley and I had been physically affectionate all the time, and no one would accuse us of anything sexual (though rumors abounded regarding Hannah and Lola.)

There was just one problem with that logic: Jackson was guy. Not just that, he was not a bad-looking guy at all. I mean, he wasn't going to Colin Farrell a run for his money anytime soon, but with his dirty blond hair, blue eyes, athletic build, and boyishly-handsome face the melted so easily into a puppy-dog pout, I began to wonder why he'd ever had any trouble with the ladies. Sure, he was short, but being half a head shorter than him myself, what did I care?

I soon realized that my "that's what best friends do" argument wasn't going to hold up. I'd never been this physical with Oliver when he and I were in the friend zone. And for good reason. Even though Oliver had been an obnoxious, immature donut at times (and of late, seemed to have permanently reverted into that state,) he'd always been a hunk. Deep down, I knew that if I got too physical with him, I'd become addicted to his touch, and I wouldn't be able to stop. And that's what happened. Don't get me wrong: I genuinely loved Oliver. But my feelings for him, combined with the power of his touch, led me to surrender my virginity to him a few weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday.

And yet, I felt something different in Jackson's arms. Safety, security, warmth, comfort. Those hadn't always been absent in Oliver, but they'd always been somewhat lacking. Even worse, it sometimes felt as if those things would go away if he didn't get what he wanted from me. But with Jackson, I knew that wasn't the case. He'd proven himself. Twice.

"I wonder what's on the tube," pondered Jackson as he reached for the remote, interrupting my introspection. A rerun of _The Office_ appeared on the screen.

"Oh man, I love this show!" I gushed.

"Me too," said Jackson.

We settled back into our previous configuration and laughed as Dwight Schrute rendered his insane survivalist interpretation of the mundane goings-on at Dunder Mifflin. I decided, for the time being, that I could trust myself to be this close to Jackson.

About a week later, the title for my car arrived, and we went down to Woodruff Auto Salvage, where we found Leon working the counter.

"Hey Lilly, J-man," greeted Leon. "How goes it?"

"Not too bad," I answered. "How about yourself?"

"Can't complain," replied Leon. "I'd guess you're here about the car. Are we selling or trading?"

"Depends on what you have."

Leon brought me around behind the counter and showed me the computer screen, which displayed a number of different vehicles.

"The 2000 Gallant looks like it needs the least amount of work," I observed.

"Yeah," confirmed Leon. "We'll make it an even swap for the Cobalt. The parts will probably be an extra seven hundred. Darryl and me will be happy to do the work for you."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," I initially declined.

"Nah, it's the least we could after that stunt our boy Morris pulled."

"Yeah, I noticed that the Las Voces Facebook page disappeared," I observed. "What's up with that?"

"Las Voces is history," explained Leon.

"Really?" I asked. "What happened?"

"Me and my brother didn't like the fact that Dan and Derek took Morris' side," elaborated Leon. "Neither did Angel."

"They broke up?" I surmised.

"Yep," confirmed. "And the rest of the group didn't want anything to with the whole mess. So that was the end of that."

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed, starting to cry. "This is all my fault!"

"Nah, don't worry about it," consoled Leon. "Those dudes are chumps. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

Since I had the title in-hand, signed and notarized, the process of filling out the necessary paperwork took only a few minutes.

"All set," announced Leon. "We'll give you a call sometime next week to let you know exactly what we're dealing with."

"I can't thank you enough," I said. "You guys have really bent over backwards for me."

"Hey, any friend of the J-man is a friend of mine," replied Leon.

"J-man, huh?" I commented after Jackson and I walked out.

"That's what the twins call me," confirmed Jackson.

"Since when did you become so popular?" I teased.

Jackson shrugged. "It's Tennessee. Usually being decent and hard-working is all it takes to get respect."

"Is that why you came back?" I inquired.

Jackson nodded. "One of the reasons. I mean I definitely want to be somebody someday, but it's nice to be somewhere for awhile where I can be myself."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It is."

"What do you know about that?" taunted Jackson. "You're a Cali girl down to the marrow."

"Yeah, that's just it," I explained. "New York is just as pretentious as SoCal, but it's an entirely different kind of pretense. The mask I wore back home wasn't fooling anybody there."

"I see your point," sympathized Jackson. "For what it's worth, I like who you are under the mask."

"That means a lot to me," I replied. It was then I realized, Jackson was probably the only person I could accept that compliment from. He'd seen me at my absolute worst, and never wavered for a second.

Unfortunately this only complicated things further. It hadn't escaped my attention that Jackson and I grew closer with each passing day. And I was scared to death of how close we might grow. Trying to find my identity in a guy had gotten me into this mess. A song from an animated flick I'd seen as a kid started playing in my head.

_ If there's prize for rotten judgment  
I guess I've already won that  
No man is worth the aggravation  
That's ancient history  
Been there; done that_

I needed to talk to somebody to sort this out, and of course Jackson was out of the question. As luck would have it, Jackson was pulling an all-nighter with some of his classmates in preparation for mid-terms, and had left his cell phone at home. As I scrolled through the list, only one question entered my mind.

_Should I call the Hannah phone, or the Miley phone?_

Shortly thereafter, another question entered my mind.

_Is this really such a hot idea?_

I quickly answered that one for myself. This needed to be done. I had a lot to say, and I wasn't sure it could all be said in one phone call. At least, I hoped, I could reopen the lines of communication. I settled upon the Miley phone, and dialed. Miley picked up after about three rings.

"What's up, Jackson?" greeted Miley. I paused for a moment to take in the sound of her voice, something I hadn't heard in months, save for a few Hannah Montana songs and snippets.

"Jackson? Hello?" prodded Miley.

"It's not Jackson, Miley," I clarified. "It's me."

"Lilly?" said Miley, understandably surprised to hear from me. "What are you doing with Jackson's phone? Are you in Tennessee?"

"It's a long story," I answered.

"I've got time," she said.

I was starting to get sick of telling this story, but I was more than willing to through it one more time for Miley's sake. She deserved to know.

"Sweet niblets!" exclaimed Miley. "I knew 'Smokin' Oken' had gone off the deep end! I just knew it!"

"Yeah, he did," I agreed, starting to cry. "Miley, you were right about everything. I can't believe I threw away our friendship for that self-worshiping son of a bitch. I wish I could take it all back. I'm so sorry!"

Miley paused for a moment, then spoke. "I'm sorry, too."

"You're what?" I reacted.

"Yes, going to New York with Oliver was the wrong decision. But I shouldn't have stopped talking to you because of that."

"You're not mad at me?" I marveled.

"I was," admitted Miley. "For a long time. But then I got over myself and realized how much I missed you."

"If you missed me, why didn't you call?" I argued.

"I didn't think you wanted to hear from me," she explained.

I had to admit, Miley wasn't unreasonable to assume that. If only she'd known that I would've liked nothing more than a shoulder to cry on during those months Oliver neglected me. If only I'd worked up the courage back then to call her.

"Let's just forget about all that," I proposed. "What's important is we're talking now."

"Yeah," agreed Miley. "Friends?"

"Friends," I agreed. "Though I should probably tell you that one of my two best friend slots is filled right now."

"Really?" asked Miley. "By who?"

_By _whom, _Miley, _I thought to myself, but bit my tongue.

"Jackson," I confessed. "He's been there for me like no one ever has before."

From there, I began to tell her everything that had happened between me and Jackson over the past few weeks. Everything, including my bad experience with drugs.

"Lilly," said Miley. "I'm going to tell you something you probably don't realize yet, but it's something you need to deal with."

"Really?" I asked. "What's that?"

"You're in love with Jackson."

**End of Chapter Seven**

Song Credit:

"I Won't Say I'm In Love"  
Written by Alan Menken and David Zippel  
Performed by Susan Egan  
From the soundtrack of the movie _Hercules _(1997)


	8. Spring Break in Music City

_A/N: Since the show writers blow hot and cold regarding Lilly's birthday, I'm going with March 10 (Emily Osment's birthday.) It works if you make certain assumptions (ask me if you really want to know.)_

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Eight: Spring Break in Music City

_From the memoirs of Jackson Stewart:_

I'd finally managed to catch up on my schoolwork, and midterms went off without a hitch, which left just thing to attend to: Spring Break!

My thought at the beginning of the semester had been to go back to Malibu and hang out at the beach. I pretty much shelved that plan when I told Lilly she could stay. I knew she wouldn't be ready just yet to go back to California, and I had no intention of leaving her in Tennessee by herself, especially since the Saturday at the end was her birthday. Just then, I had an epiphany.

"Lilly, have you ever been Nashville?" I asked.

"Drove through on my way here, and on my way to Crowley Corners from the airport," answered Lilly. "Otherwise, no."

"How would you like to spend a few days seeing the sights and visiting with Mamaw Stewart?" I suggested.

"Aw, I haven't seen Mamaw in ages," responded Lilly. "That'd be awesome."

"Great," I replied. "I'll give her a call and see if she can't make room for us."

I talked to Mamaw that evening, who indicated she'd be happy to have us both. We started planning out our schedule, finding it was quite feasible to see everything in Nashville in a week.

"Can we take my car?" requested Lilly.

"I don't see as why not," I agreed.

"Eep!" beamed Lilly.

Lilly absolutely adored her 2000 Mitsubishi Gallant, the work for which had come in about a hundred dollars under bid. Sometimes we'd take her car, and sometimes we'd take mine, but whatever we did, we did together. At times, it felt almost like we were dating. At least, I hoped whatever we were doing would eventually progress into dating.

I wanted so badly just to sweep Lilly off her feet. But after her experiences with Oliver and Morris, I was afraid she might be easily spooked. And I'd have sooner been stuck in the Friend Zone than lose her forever. I'd never felt this way about a girl before. For the first time in my life, I knew what true love felt like. It hurt like hell, but it was a hurt I'd never dream of making go away, even if I thought I could.

I now remembered quite clearly the day I realized I loved Lilly Truscott. Mind you, I'm not talking about the day I stopped kidding myself, which had only been a few weeks prior. No, the day I first loved Lilly Truscott was March 10, 2010, Lilly's seventeenth birthday. Oliver had gotten sick, and Miley was stuck somewhere out in BFE after her flight had been canceled. Lilly had gotten on my last nerve, and I was fully prepared to be selfish and abandon her in favor of Rico's offer to go with him to the Lakers game.

Then, I turned back, and watched as she started to cry. There, before me, was the most beautiful, intelligent, sweet, kind, caring girl I had ever met. Of all people on God's green earth, she least deserved to be alone on her birthday. I didn't just want to give her the best birthday ever, I _needed _to. Like I needed air and water. I begged Rico to rustle up another ticket (we won't get into what I had to do to pay him back.)

When the game and Lilly's birthday were over, and Oliver was feeling well again, I released Lilly back into his arms. At the time, Oliver was still my friend, and I knew Lilly belonged to him, and I'd never do anything to hurt either of them. I had no choice but to try and forget about her. But I couldn't. The truth is, not a day went by since that day that I didn't think about her. With the second anniversary of that day coming up, I started to feel the anguish all over again. I prayed that I'd be able to get through this week.

We waited until Monday to drive up, mainly because if we'd driven up earlier, Mamaw would've dragged us to church, which I thought would be a little uncomfortable for Lilly, being an occasionally-practicing Catholic. By the time that day came, we'd been packed for days. We got out of bed bright and early, and hit the road by nine.

We drove half an hour north to Sectorville, where we stopped for gas and picked up the Interstate. As we cruised along, I couldn't help but notice the composition of Lilly's playlist.

"I didn't realize you liked old school Van Halen," I observed.

"I didn't either," explained Lilly. "Morris left some of his CDs behind when he moved out. The guy's a total dick, but he actually has good taste in music."

"Can't argue with that," I agreed.

Around noon we arrived in Nashville. Lilly had an impeccable sense of direction, and found her way to Mamaw's house in no time. We parked on the street in front, where we found Mamaw on the porch waiting for us. She came running down to meet us.

"I'm so happy you decided to come pay your old Mamaw a visit on your Spring Break," thanked Mamaw with a hug, who then turned to hug Lilly. "And Lilly, you cute patootie! It's great to see some meat on those bones for a change!"

Lilly smiled. "It's great to see you too, Mamaw Stewart." Lilly would've taken offense to that comment from anyone else, but from Mamaw, it was the highest compliment.

We opened the trunk, from which Mamaw handed me my two bags and took Lilly's herself.

"It's okay, Mamaw," declined Lilly. "I've got it."

"Oh, hogwash!" dismissed Mamaw. "It'd be downright rude to make my house guest carry her own luggage. Isn't that right, Jackson?"

"Yes, Mamaw," I acknowledged. Lilly held the door for us, at which point I headed for my dad's old room, and Lilly followed Mamaw to the guest room. We both took a few minutes to unpack, after which Mamaw served us a late lunch.

"So Lilly, what have you been doing with yourself lately?" asked Mamaw. "Going to college, I would guess."

"Yeah," confirmed Lilly, who then gave the G-rated version of her story. "I was going to City College up in New York City, but that really wasn't for me. So I came down to visit Jackson, and I fell in love with Tennessee U. So I got a job and an apartment, and I'll be starting up next semester."

"Glad to hear it," approved Mamaw. "I have been to New York, and while it's certainly an interesting place to visit, I sure as Sam Heck wouldn't want to spend four years there."

"That makes two of us," agreed Lilly.

"So what is that Oken boy up to?" inquired Mamaw.

"Honestly, I couldn't care less," informed Lilly. "We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Oh, honey!" sympathized Mamaw. "I am so sorry."

"I'm not," said Lilly. "Oliver's a donut, and I'm glad it's over."

"Good for you!" encouraged Mamaw. "I never did think much of that boy."

After helping with Mamaw with the dishes, I decided to take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather, leaving her and Lilly to engage in girl-talk while I cleaned the gutters. It turned out to be a good call; they really needed it.

Dinner conversation was much more light-hearted, centering mostly on my classes and anecdotes about Uncle Earl and Aunt Pearl that Lilly and I had both heard hundreds of times, but for some reason, never got old. We decided to leave the dishes for later and played a game of pinochle.

"Great game," said Lilly as she got up. "And great food, Mamaw."

"Well, thank you," accepted Mamaw. "Are you leaving us?"

"Yeah," confirmed Lilly. "It's been a long day. I think I'll go read for a bit and hit the hay."

"Alrighty," said Mamaw as she hugged Lilly. "Good night, honey."

"Good night, Mamaw."

"Well, Jackson," declared Mamaw after Lilly went upstairs. "These dishes aren't going to do themselves."

As Mamaw and I did the dishes, the conversation topic somehow drifted back to Lilly.

"You're in love with her," observed Mamaw.

"What, me? In love with Lilly?" I denied. "No way!"

"Don't you like to me, boy," admonished Mamaw. "You've been sweet on that little girl for years. I could see it in the way you look at her."

I sighed. "Guilty, as charged."

"Now that that moron Oliver is out of the picture, I reckon it's high-time you quit beating around the bush," urged Mamaw.

"I can't do that, Mamaw," I argued. "Lilly's had it really tough these past few months."

"I know," revealed Mamaw.

"You do?"

Mamaw nodded. "Lilly told me the whole story while you were out cleaning the gutters."

I didn't know if the "whole story" included the part about Lilly taking drugs, but I didn't mention it in case she hadn't.

"Did she say anything about me specifically?" I asked.

"Now, Jackson Rod Stewart," scolded Mamaw. "You know I can't get into that."

"I'm flying blind here, Mamaw," I lamented. "I love Lilly, and I want more than anything to give her what she needs. But I have no idea what that is."

"I think you do," argued Mamaw. "Believe me, honey, Lilly is not as independent and self-reliant as she'd like people to think. She needs a man in her life who will stand by her, and treat her right, and give her what she needs. Near as I can tell, that young man is you."

"So what do I?" I asked.

"Wait for the right moment," instructed Mamaw. "And tell her you love her, and you want to be with her."

"How do I when that is?"

"You'll know," assured Mamaw.

As I lay in bed, I thought on what Mamaw had said. Particularly, the part about having liked Lilly for years. Just how many years was she talking about? Maybe I was wrong about when I first fell in love with her. Maybe I'd always known she was the one for me. Maybe I'd shot myself in the foot during all those years of unsuccessful babe-hounding because I was just biding my time until the time came for Lilly and me to take things to the next level.

Morris had warned me that if I didn't make a move on Lilly, some "random asshole" would. It disgusted me to know the "random asshole" he was talking about was himself. But now, I realized he wasn't just talking about himself. He was also talking about Oliver Oken, and the guy who two-timed Lilly back when she was a freshman, and every other guy who had or would treat Lilly like a piece of garbage, and not the priceless treasure she was.

It was then I realized that this was no longer about me. In fact, it had never been about me. It had always been about Lilly, about giving her the love she deserved. As was often the case, Mamaw was right. I was the man for the job, and I owed it to Lilly, and to myself, to see it through, if possible. I no longer had any doubt as to whether I wanted to take things to the next level with her. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.

Unfortunately, the right moment took its sweet old time arriving. Throughout the week, we toured every nook and cranny of the Country Music Capital of the World, seeing the sights, hearing live music in venues of all sizes, or doing things as simple as taking a walk down by the river. Don't get me wrong: I enjoyed every minute of it. But it also frustrated many how many times it seemed the right moment was upon me, then flitted away just beyond my grasp.

One time, we were out walking in the park, and we somehow got on the subject of what we liked in a potential mate. As we talked, that guy started to sound a lot like, and that girl started to sound a lot like Lilly. Then came an abrupt subject change, and the moment was gone.

Another time, we were listening to a promising new country band play at a small café. I had my arm around her, and we heard something amusing in the lyrics (I still don't recall what) that made us both laugh. We turned to face each other and smiled. I started to move in for a kiss, and it seemed as though Lilly was doing the same. Then the song ended, and Lilly rose to applaud.

Thursday night came, and we waited in queue to walk the gang plank of the riverboat cruise we had planned for the evening.

"This is so cool," beamed Lilly.

"I'm glad you like it," I said.

The air was a little chilly that night, but it didn't matter, as all the action would be inside. And action was the right word for it: A banquet fit for a king, uproarious old-fashioned music, and some of the most energetic line dancing I'd ever seen. I was a little worried at first that Lilly wouldn't enjoy it, but not only was she really into it, she was really good at it too.

We got back to Mamaw's house pretty late. I'd asked her not to wait up, and true to her word, she didn't. She did, however, leave the porch light on for us. When we arrived, Lilly had fallen asleep, all tuckered out from her athletic display of dancing skill. It seemed like the perfect moment. I would wake her up with a kiss. However, just as I leaned over...

"Are we home yet?" croaked Lilly.

"Yeah," I said. "We're here."

As we approached the front door, I fumbled around for my house key. When I found it, I opened the door for Lilly, and ushered her inside. We stopped for a moment at the bottom of the stairs.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," complimented Lilly.

"I'm glad you enjoy it," I said.

Before I knew it, our faces began to draw closer together. I was fully prepared to give Lilly the best kiss of her young life before she turned her face, causing me to plant on her cheek. She smiled and planted one on my cheek, as well.

"Goodnight, Jackson," she said with a hint of a chuckle.

"Goodnight, Lilly," I responded.

As I sat in bed, I kept wondering what I was doing wrong. Then I started to wonder if maybe Mamaw hadn't missed the mark on this one. Maybe Lilly just wasn't ready yet. Or maybe I just wasn't the guy for her. I needed a second opinion, and only one name came to mind.

Robbie Ray Stewart.

Of all people, he was presumably the only one still unaware of what was going on with Lilly. I wondered for a moment if it was really my place to tell him. Then I remembered that Lilly had been in contact with Miley, her mother, and of course Mamaw. He was bound to catch wind of it sooner or later. I sucked it up and called him.

"Hello," answered Dad.

"Hi, dad," I greeted. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

"Nah, I was just finishing up some work on the next Hannah song," informed Dad.

"Oh, good," I said. "Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"Sure thing, bud. What's up?"

For some reason, I felt compelled to get straight to the point. "Dad, I'm in love with Lilly."

"Uh huh," responded Dad.

"Uh huh?" I echoed.

"Jackson, I reckon it's pretty obvious to everyone except you and Lilly."

"Yeah, I guess it is," I granted. "So did Mamaw tell you anything?"

"She told me you and Lilly were visiting with her for Spring Break."

I sighed in relief, happy that Mamaw had been discreet about it. I, however, had no such luxury.

"There's more to it than just that," I revealed. "She's staying with me in Magdeburg. She's planning on going to Tennessee U next fall."

"I see," responded Dad, reacting more calmly than I thought he would. From there on out, I explained the whole convoluted situation to him.

"Well, son, in this case, I have to say your Mamaw's right," declared Dad. "If you really care about Lilly this much, you need to let her know."

"I know, dad," I argued. "I'm just waiting for the right moment."

"Well, I hate to be the one to break this to you, son," said Dad. "But sometimes you have to make the right moment happen."

I sighed. "You're right dad. I know what to do."

"Glad to hear it," approved Dad. "Give me a holler and let me know what happens."

"Will do," I promised.

"Love you, son."

"Love you, too, dad."

As I hung up, I felt relieved. The cat was officially out of the bag. All the right people were rooting for me and Lilly. But nobody was going to do this for me. Like my dad said, I had to make the right moment happen. And I would. I had planned a special birthday dinner for Lilly on Saturday night, two years to the day after what I now considered our first date.

Alas, if only life were that simple.

**End of Chapter Eight**


	9. A Birthday to Remember

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Nine: A Birthday to Remember

_From the memoirs of Lilly Truscott:_

Friday morning, I got online and checked the weather forecast. A couple of fronts looked like they might collide sometime Saturday evening, threatening to produce prodigious amounts of snow. Much to my relief, the weather people predicted that this snow would most likely fall on Illinois and Indiana, possibly portions of Northern Kentucky. Here in Tennessee, the worst we could expect was a bit of light rain.

I felt relieved, but at the same time, I felt nervous. The reason for my mixed feelings was I could tell Jackson was planning something big for Saturday night. And frankly, I wasn't sure I was ready for everything that might happen that night. I wasn't worried that something something unchaste might happen, since we'd be staying with Mamaw Stewart that night and heading out Sunday afternoon (nor was I entirely opposed to the idea of something unchaste happening.) But Miley was right: I had feelings for Jackson, and near as I could tell, he had feelings for me.

It was because I cared about him so much that I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to take things to the next level with him. I was still sore from the whole Oliver fiasco, not to mention the incident with Morris. Jackson deserved much better than a rebound fling with a girl whose wounds were largely self-inflicted. On the other hand, it seemed quite likely that I'd carry the scars of these events for the rest of my life, and the best thing would be to move on in spite of them. The truth was, I just didn't know.

Thankfully, I still had a whole day to think about it. One could hardly visit Nashville and not take in a show at the Grand Ole Opry, and for that afternoon and evening, Jackson and I warmly welcomed Mamaw Stewart as our third wheel.

We'd make two visits to the Opry that day. The first would be a tour, which called for casual dress. I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and we headed out. When we arrived, we first stopped for lunch at the Opry Mills Mall.

"Mamaw, doesn't it seem a little crass to you that the Opry is connected to a mall," I asked.

"I suppose," conceded Mamaw, "But you of all people should know that money and music go hand-in-hand. It's the nature of the beast."

I had to admit, Mamaw was right. Hannah Montana was not only a musician, but also one of the most lucrative commercial ventures in recorded history. And I never cared what Hannah's detractors said. In my mind, she brought something truly unique to the musical world, and earned every nickel she made.

Until Robbie Ray set me straight a few years ago, I was one of many people who mistakenly believed the Grand Ole Opry was an opera house that just happened to have acquired a reputation for being the home of country music's veterans. In reality, it was a long-running radio show that had played in a number of different venues before settling into its current location in 1974.

Of course, that was nearly forty years ago, and the Opry House had managed to acquire a good deal of history since then, including a legend that the place was haunted. In fact, no fewer than 35 associated with the place had met untimely deaths. It was one of many facts I learned during our fascinating, and at times disturbing, tour of the Grand Ole Opry House.

After the tour, we headed back to the fort, where I donned a fairly modest even gown, and Mamaw helped me do up my hair. As soon as we finished, Jackson appeared, clad in a sport coat and dress shirt, the top two buttons of which he left undone.

"Leave it," I said with a sly smile, sensing that Mamaw wanted to button him up.

I expected Jackson to drive, but much to my surprise, Mamaw volunteered for chauffeur duty (Shouldn't that be "chauffeuse?" I only took a semester of French, but still.) That left the back seat to me and Jackson. Mamaw of course adjusted her center mirror so that she could make sure no hanky-panky would go down.

We found our seats good and early. I thought about letting Mamaw sit between us, but she pushed past Jackson and took a seat on the other side of him.

"Who's playing tonight, again?" I asked.

"Jessie McNare," informed Mamaw.

"Aw, I love her!" I gushed.

Jessie McNare was a veteran of country music who hadn't been much older than Miley had been when she first started her career. It was for this reason that she'd helped Hannah cross-promote herself to country fans by touring with her. It was also for this reason that she picked one of her songs, about halfway into the act.

"Ladies and gents," she began. "I was just a young girl when I started down this road. And some of my best advice and help came from artists who'd been in the business for ages. That's why I'm always happy to see a new young artist come along. One such artist is someone I've toured with; someone who's made a splash in both the popular and country music scenes. That someone is Hannah Montana."

With that, the piano played, and she began to sing "One in a Million." It was during this song that I pondered just how unusual it was that a Cali girl like me would have any interest whatsoever in country music. I realized the reason I liked it was because one of the kindest, gentlest, most unpretentious men I'd ever met was an actual country singer, namely: Robbie Ray Stewart. And now I was starting to see those qualities in his son. And it was making me fall for him.

On the way back, Jackson took my hand. At that point, I didn't care that we weren't officially a couple. I simply enjoyed the feeling of my hand in his too much. It dawned on me that moment that what we'd been doing the last few weeks was damn close to dating. The riverboat cruise had been a date. The night at the Opry, chaperon notwithstanding, had been a date. And whatever Jackson had planned for my birthday would be a date.

Okay, I thought, so I've gone out on a few dates with my best friend. Nothing wrong with that. But I still hadn't decided whether or not I wanted a relationship with him. I really liked being his friend, and after all that had happened, I was scared to death of losing that. After pondering all of this, I wasn't any closer to the answer I needed.

The next day had my stomach in knots, for a number of reasons. Obviously, what would become of me and Jackson after this evening stood at the forefront. But another complication arose as I flipped on the Weather Channel. The winds had shifted in the upper atmosphere, and it was now by no means certain that the snowstorm would miss us. If indeed it hit us, it would mean record amounts of snowfall for the Nashville area.

Not to be discouraged, I laid out my clothes and started to get ready for the big date. Once I'd gotten into my dress, Mamaw came into the room. I thought she'd come to help me with my hair and makeup. Instead, she came bearing bad news.

"Lilly, I think you and Jackson need to head back to Magdeburg," urged Mamaw. "If you leave in the next hour or so, you should be able to stay ahead of the weather."

"What about my birthday dinner?" I argued. "You were so excited for us."

"I was," admitted Mamaw. "But it'll have to wait. You have to be at work on Monday, and Jackson has class, and I don't want you to be stranded here."

I sighed. "All right."

About half an hour later, I'd changed back into my mild-mannered clothes, and Jackson and I had everything loaded and ready to go.

"Thanks for everything, Mamaw," I said as I hugged her goodbye.

"Happy birthday, sweetie," said Mamaw, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

As I got in the car, Jackson lingered for a few minutes talking to Mamaw about something. I had no idea what, but I suspected it had something to do with me. They hugged goodbye, and Jackson quickly got in the car.

"Let's ride," he said.

I made best possible speed to and on the Interstate while the weather still cooperated. Unfortunately, around four in the afternoon, snow began to fall, and I had to slow down. I continued to slow down as the snow fell faster and harder. Eventually, we found ourselves creeping along at about fifteen miles an hour, blinkers and fog lights on, defrost at full blast, and wipers at full speed. Even with all of that, I could hardly see half a car-length in front of me.

"We have to turn back," I resigned.

"It's too far, we'll never make it," argued Jackson.

Facing the prospect of being stranded once again, I was really starting to hate I-40. Through the curtain of white, I saw something ahead that turned out to be flashing police lights. Apparently, they'd closed the Interstate, and were herding the traffic onto the nearest exit ramp.

"Where are we?" I asked Jackson.

"Not a clue," he answered, clearly as scared as I was.

I continued to creep along, fearing for both our lives as I negotiated the curves and hills of this country road. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we found signs of civilization: A gas station, and a motel. Figuring that we had no choice but to stop for the night, I decided the motel was as good a place as any, and I pulled in. Jackson and I shielded our faces as we walked onto into the blizzard toward the office.

"Y'all are in luck," greeted the owner as we closed the door behind us. "I've got one room left."

"We'll take it," accepted Jackson, dropping his driver's license and credit card on the counter. Jackson filled out the paperwork quickly and sloppily. Since the phone lines were down, the owner had to content himself with taking an imprint.

"You go ahead," said Jackson, handing me the key (an actual old-fashioned key.) "I'll get our bags."

I didn't argue, but instead braced myself for the arctic blast and made a mad dash for the room and the far end of the building. A moment later, Jackson pounded on the door. I opened the door, and Jackson came running in with our bags. It surprised me how fast he could run carrying such a load.

I looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. The clock read seven-thirty, and it was only then I realized just how long we'd been creeping along in that blizzard. It made me even more grateful to have found shelter for the night. Happy to be safe and warm, Jackson and I held each other for warmth for awhile.

The snow continued to fall, but the wind subsided a bit after awhile. Jackson seized the opportunity to try and find something for us to eat. He returned a few minutes later with something wrapped in a towel. He unwrapped it to reveal a couple of microwave dinners and two cans of soda.

"Well, at least we won't starve," I noted, trying to be optimistic in these trying circumstances.

"Yeah, how's this for a romantic birthday dinner?" kidded Jackson. His successful attempt to lighten the mood brought a smile to my face.

"Mazeltov," I toasted, raising my soda can. Jackson smiled and clinked his soda can against mine.

We dove into our food, grateful to actually be eating under these circumstances. It was certainly no banquet, but the fact that Jackson had braved the elements to get it for me made it taste like one.

"I couldn't help but notice there's only one bed," I observed.

"It's yours," offered Jackson. "I'll take the floor."

"Jackson, we're both adults here" I argued. "We can share the bed."

"I don't think that would be such a good idea," countered Jackson.

"Jackson, you're acting really weird," I noted. "Is something wrong?"

"You mean, other than being stranded in a blizzard in BFE on your birthday?"

"I'll grant you, it's not the highlight of my week," I said, "But something else is bothering you. I can tell."

Jackson sighed. "This isn't how I wanted to do this."

"Do what?" I asked, as if I didn't know. "Jackson, what are trying to tell me?"

Jackson took my hand in his, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out.

"I love you, Lilly," he confessed.

"Oh my gosh!" I reacted, realizing that wasn't the response Jackson wanted.

"Yeah, like I said, not how I wanted to tell you," reiterated Jackson. "But there it is."

"I don't know what to say," I said as my voice trembled.

"Tell me you don't love me," suggested Jackson.

"What?" exclaimed, having no idea how to swing at the curve ball he'd just thrown me.

"Tell me you don't love me," repeated Jackson. "And we'll forget this ever happened. And we'll go back to being friends. The offer I made back when you moved in still stands regardless. It's your call."

And there it was. Jackson had given me a way out. I could take a step back, bury any feelings I may have had for Jackson, and go back to way things used to be. He'd be hurt. Crushed, even. But he'd recover, and our friendship would survive. And all I had to do was tell him I didn't love him. It seemed like such a perfect plan. But it had one fatal flaw:

It was a lie! All of it! The plain truth of the matter was, I loved Jackson in way far deeper and much different than anyone I'd ever loved before. Including Oliver. I didn't know what was to become of our relationship at this point, but like the snowstorm we'd just driven through, we'd come too far to turn back.

I began to cry as I summoned up the courage to say that which I could no longer bear not to say.

"I love you, too, Jackson," I confessed.

"I want more than anything in the world for you and I to be together," continued Jackson.

"I don't know if I can do that," I admitted.

"Why not?" asked Jackson, beginning to tear up himself.

It was a fair question, one that warranted a better answer than I felt capable of giving. Still, I owed it to Jackson to try.

"Because you deserve someone better than me," I sobbed.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Jackson.

"I destroy relationships, Jackson," I elaborated. "If I hadn't taken things to the next level with Oliver, maybe he wouldn't have turned into such a monster. I destroyed your friendship with Morris, and I broke up his singing group. By some miracle, I have you and Miley back in my life. Your friendship is so precious, I don't want to do anything to risk it. I'm frakked-up, Jackson! Getting involved with me is asking for trouble."

Jackson embraced me tightly for a few minutes, letting me cry into his shirt before addressing my little filibuster.

"I don't know where to start with all that," began Jackson, "But let me say, first of all, that the handwriting was on the wall with Morris and Oliver. Believe me, they would've shown their true colors sooner or later. And having you back in my life is a miracle. Just not the kind you think.

"Everyone in my family loves you, and we've missed you something awful. The miracle was that you came back to us. Don't you see, Lilly? I'm frakked-up, too. I was a worse friend than you were. I should have chased after you, dragged you back, and made you and Miley hash it out. I never should have let you out of her life. Out of my life. And not a day went by since then that I didn't think about you.

"I don't ever want to let you go again. And I don't ever want to stop being your friend. Oliver didn't know what he meant when he said he loved you. I do. When I say I love you, I mean I want to discover just how deep our friendship can go."

And thus, Jackson had won the debate. He had won me. I could no longer deny him my love. I belonged to him; he belonged to me. I held him as tightly as my shoulder muscles could manage.

"It was always you," I declared. "Why did it take me so long to see it?"

"Maybe we just needed some time to pull our heads out of our asses," theorized Jackson.

I laughed and cried at the same time. It was then I realized that Jackson and I had declared our deep and everlasting love for one another, but had yet to share our first kiss. We'd had so many near-misses, I wanted to eliminate any doubt this time.

"Kiss me," I demanded.

I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and braced myself as Jackson's lips crashing into mine. We kept it fairly chaste at first, playing with each other's lips. But then, a hunger for one another came over us, and I parted my lips, welcoming the man I loved into my mouth. He played with my tongue with a care and tenderness I never thought possible. I never wanted this kiss to end, and apparently never did he. For the last few seconds, we breathed together as one.

As we pulled apart, I watched as Jackson's blue eyes began to wander. It was pretty obvious he was checking me out. I didn't mind at all.

"Do you like what you see?" I cooed playfully.

"You are so incredibly beautiful," gushed Jackson as he gently stroked my hair.

"So are you," I replied. We dove in for another kiss, and I pulled him down on top of me.

As we enjoyed one another, I noticed two things. First of all was that my MP3 player had been playing the whole time, and at this moment, a familiar track was playing:

_When I'm with you_

_ Are you somewhere else_

_ Am I getting through_

_ Or do you please yourself_

_ When you wake up_

_ Will you walk out_

_ It can't be love_

_ If you throw it about_

The lyrics of the song described the complete opposite of what Jackson and I felt at this moment. And yet, the song had somehow taken on a whole new meaning, and seemed oddly fitting.

The second thing I noticed was our relative sizes. Oliver and I had always had to make adjustments due to our differences in height and weight. Not so with Jackson. Indeed, he was just the right size for me. And I wanted to see just how far that metaphor extended. He wouldn't be my first, and I wouldn't be his. None of that mattered. Having joyfully surrendered after having fought him off for so long, I wanted, at long last, to be fully his.

"Make love to me," I begged.

"Are you sure?" asked Jackson.

"More sure than I've ever been of anything."

Jackson's face lit up with joyful anticipation. "I love you so much."

"I love you more."

Jackson grinned devilishly. "We'll see."

I'd had sex many times before. That night, for the first time ever, we made love.

**End of Chapter Nine**


	10. Together at Last

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Ten: Together at Last

_But little Mouse, you are not alone,  
In proving foresight may be vain:  
The best laid schemes of mice and men  
Go often askew,  
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,  
For promised joy!_

_--_From _To a Mouse _by Robert Burns

_From the memoirs of Jackson Stewart:_

I don't remember a whole hell of a lot from high school English class. But for some reason, that particular poem always sticks out in my mind. The reason is pretty obvious: Very little in my life has ever gone the way I planned it. On March 10, 2012, Lilly Truscott's nineteenth birthday, that stanza proved more true than ever. All of it, that is, except the last two lines.

My dad had called in a number of favors from old friends in the Nashville music scene, and managed to finagle a couple of tickets to a charity ball. It was there that I would wine and dine Lilly, then literally sweep her off her feet, and declare my love for her on the dance floor. It all seemed so perfect. In retrospect, I'm glad it never had a chance to fail.

Instead, it came about the same way the same way this whole thing started: Getting stranded off of I-40. We checked into a modest, but comfortable motel room, and Lilly's birthday dinner consisted of a frozen beef stroganoff and a can of soda. And then we faced the prospect of sharing the room's solitary queen-size bed. I just couldn't handle that. My desire for her would kill me. If we couldn't be together, I'd sleep on the floor.

It wasn't the elegant, romantic, dream-like setting I'd envisioned. Nonetheless, I knew the right moment was upon me. I sucked it up, and I told Lilly that I loved her. Understandably, she didn't know what to say. So I made it abundantly clear that the ball was in her court. I made a promise never to abandon her, and I would stay true to that no matter what. Given her answer, I guess I said the right thing.

She loved me back! I could hardly believe my ears. And yet, she still wasn't sure we could be together. Never in my life had a girl considered _herself _unworthy of _me_. Not only that, she thought having relationship with me would jeopardize our friendship. As many times as I'd been dismissed with a similar line, I knew that wasn't Lilly's intention. Whatever the outcome, it wouldn't do to have her think that. So I set her straight, letting her know that I didn't want our friendship to end; I wanted it to grow as deep and intimate as it possibly could. At that moment, Lilly and I became lovers, sealing our bond with a kiss.

Of course, it didn't stop there. Kissing turned into making out, and making out turned into heavy petting. Our passion escalated to the point where we needed to be as close to one another as was physically possible. Fortunately, I didn't need to be the one to broach the subject, as Lilly followed the three magical words we'd exchanged earlier with four equally magical words:

"Make love to me," she begged.

"Are you sure?" I asked. I knew she'd only ever been with one other guy. I didn't want to push her farther than she was ready to go.

"More sure than I've ever been of anything," she confirmed.

"I love you so much," I declared, wanting her to know that this would be as special for me as it was for her.

"I love you more," she answered.

That sounded to me like a challenge. "We'll see."

I won't compare Lilly to any of the three other girls I'd slept with. It's like comparing the flight of a leer jet with the flight of an eagle. The mechanics are similar (which I won't get into, lest I read like an eighth-grade sex ed textbook), but the meaning and essence of the exercise are incomparable.

I will make make one comparison: Unlike Lilly, none of them had ever cried. At first, I thought I was hurting her. I'd never been with a girl I truly loved, and who truly loved me, so I didn't understand until then just how overwhelming giving physical expression to those kinds of feelings can be. Knowing that, it's a wonder I didn't cry myself.

My first sight of Lilly's naked body made me feel just a dollop of sympathy for Morris. I still thought he was a putz, but I completely understood why the sight of her frustrated him so. For most of the act, however, I stayed focused on Lilly's face. Having seen anger and sorrow in her face so many times lately, it brought me indescribable joy to see her so happy. A happiness she'd never before experienced. She would later tell me she had experienced her first orgasm with a partner that night.

There wouldn't be any pillow talk that night. Our lovemaking had been the culmination of a day that had itself been the culmination of many years of anticipation. The effect of unleashing that much passion at one time was sheer and utter exhaustion. Within minutes of finished, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, the ringing of the landline rudely interrupted my dreams of Lilly.

"Yeah," I groaned as I picked up the phone.

"Good morning," greeted a female voice. "This is the front desk. May I speak to Jackson Stewart?"

"That's me," I croaked.

"Mr. Stewart, I just spoke with the state emergency management coordinator. He informs me that local roads will likely remain closed until tomorrow afternoon. The agency has contracted with us to provide shelter in the interim, so there will be no charge to your credit card."

"That's good," I said. "Did you hear anything about Tennessee University?"

"I believe I heard on the radio that they're closed tomorrow," informed the clerk.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're very welcome," said the lady as we hung up.

I turned to face Lilly, whose smile made my rude awakening worthwhile. I took a moment to take in her sea-green eyes, her long, messy blonde hair, and her bare shoulders just above the sheets.

"I don't know how much of that you heard," I said.

"All of it," answered Lilly with a yawn. "Those hotel phones are pretty loud."

"I don't think your boss will holler at you for missing work tomorrow," I speculated.

"I hope not," replied Lilly.

After that, we gazed into one another's eyes, and her smile returned. She pulled my face to hers and kissed me hard.

"I love you, Jackson Rod Stewart," declared Lilly as she ran her fingers through my hair.

I stroked her hair as well. "And I love you, Lillian...just what is your middle name, anyway?"

Lilly laughed. "I actually don't have one."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, if you hand me my purse, I'll show you my driver's license," offered Lilly.

"I'll take your word for it," I declined, deciding, for the moment, it was farther away from my beloved than I wanted to be right now.

"Oh yeah," I remembered. "I never even got the chance to wish you a happy birthday."

Lilly giggled. "I'll let it slide this time, only because you gave me a really grawsome present."

"Grawsome?" I asked.

"Yeah, portmanteau of 'great' and awesome," explained Lilly.

"Yeah, not feeling that one," I commented. "It sounds too much like 'gruesome.'"

Lilly sighed. "Miley didn't like it either. I thought I'd try it out on you."

"Yeah, gotta agree with her in this case."

Lilly changed the subject. "I can't believe it's been two years."

"Since what?" I asked, thinking she and I couldn't possibly have the same event in mind.

"The day you saved my birthday," elaborated Lilly. "That's when I first realized what a wonderful guy you were."

And there it was. My dad, Miley, Oliver, and even Rico had all unwittingly conspired on Lilly's seventeenth birthday to plant the seed that would eventually blossom into our love. It was a day which left Lilly and I with no one to lean on except each other. Just like the day we renewed our friendship. Just like the day we became lovers. Lilly's birthday would always be a special day for us.

"Happy two-year anniversary, baby," I said as I gently stroked her cheekbone.

"Happy anniversary to you, too," she replied before leaning in for a kiss.

Our activities the previous evening had worked up quite an appetite, so Lilly and showered quickly and bundled up as best we could before heading outside. As we left the room, we found that the front walk had been shoveled, but the cars were barely recognizable as such, buried under almost two feet of snow.

As it turned out, our timing couldn't have been better. As we made our way to the lobby to see if the vending machine had anything left, a snowcat pulling a sleigh arrived. The four National Guardsmen announced their arrival over a bullhorn, then approach the motel on snowshoes, pulling sleds carrying large boxes of self-heating meals and flats of bottled water. Already at the front of the line, Lilly and I received ours and headed back to our room.

"Better or worse than the stroganoff?" I asked as we ate our self-heating chicken booyah.

"Eh, about the same," said Lilly as she chewed. Most guys would be grossed out by that, but I actually found it endearing.

"When this is over, I'll take you out for a real dinner," I promised.

Lilly put down her fork and took my hand in hers.

"Jackson," she said, "I'll be happy if this is all I ever eat. As long as I'm with you."

"So you're saying you don't want me to take you out to dinner?" I teased.

"I never said that!" Lilly quickly responded.

I smirked. "Didn't think so."

We were about to get frisky when my cell phone rang.

"Hey dad," I answered.

"Oh, thank God you're okay!" exclaimed Dad. "I heard Tennessee done got both barrels from that snowstorm. Mamaw said y'all left yesterday afternoon and didn't check in. We were worried sick!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," I apologized. "Lilly and I are snowed in at a motel in Agnew Lake, but we're fine."

"Glad to hear it," said Dad, obviously relieved. "Sorry the weather put the kibosh on your big date."

"Actually, that turned out better than I thought," I revealed.

I handed the phone to Lilly.

"Hi, Mr. Stewart," greeted Lilly. "I'm doing great, how are you...glad to hear it...yes, that's right, we're together...yeah, it's pretty exciting...that's a little premature, don't you think...don't worry about it; I'm excited, too...yeah, I'd prefer to tell them myself...I think Jackson would like to be the one to tell Mamaw...you can tell Rico. You can't possibly over-stress the fact that I'm off the market...aw, thanks Mr. Stewart...good times, good times...yeah, I'll talk to you later. Here's Jackson."

"She's such a sweet girl," declared Dad as I got back on the phone.

"Yeah, she really is," I agreed.

"Now, son, I know anything an old-fashioned hillbilly like me has to say on the subject is gonna go in one ear and out the other," pontificated Dad, "But whatever you do, be careful."

"What are you talking about?" I deflected.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," argued Dad.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her," I assured.

"I know you will, son," said Dad. "And I couldn't be happier for both of you. Now give your Mamaw a call and let her know you're alive."

"Will do," I agreed.

After hanging up, I called Mamaw and let her know the situation. She congratulated us, as well. Unlike Dad, however, she didn't hesitate to lecture me, in graphic detail, about safe sex.

"I can't believe they knew what we were up to," I noted after I hung up the phone.

"They were young adults once, too," observed Lilly, before changing the subject. "So I guess we're stuck in this shoe box for at least another day."

"Look on the bright side," I argued. "We probably won't have this much time alone together for awhile."

Lilly grinned as she put her arms around my neck. "Now that you put it that way, I have a few ideas on how to pass the time."

With that, she attacked my lips and pushed me down onto the bed. Suffice to say, Lilly and I got to know one another _very _well that afternoon and evening.

At about one o'clock the following afternoon, the plows came through, and the state cops reopened the road. I talked to the local emergency management coordinator, who informed me that the University would remain closed until Wednesday, but we had a clear path between Agnew Lake and Magdeburg. Lilly and I were starting to get stir-crazy, so we quickly packed up and headed out.

As we drove down the Interstate, I thought back on Lilly's conversation with my dad.

"I don't mean to pry," I inquired, "But what were you and dad talking about when you said 'good times?'"

"Oh, that?" answered Lilly. "Yeah, he was just reminiscing about the days when I used to ride through your front door on my skateboard."

"That was pretty cool," I admitted. "Speaking of which, there's an amateur half-pipe tournament the week before finals. You should sign up."

Lilly laughed. "What, so you can amuse yourself watching me wipe out?"

"Wipe out?" I asked. "Come on, Lilly. You're better than that."

"I _was _better than that," corrected Lilly. "Jackson, I haven't been on a board in years."

It was then I remembered yet another realization I'd had on our special day two years prior: The cute skater girl my dad had mentioned had become a woman. A woman I loved more than life itself. And yet, I missed the girl she was. I hoped that girl was still in there somewhere.

The day after we returned to Magdeburg, we helped my landlord take away the two single beds he'd loaned Morris and me. In exchange, he helped us bring in our new queen size bed, on which we'd gotten a really good deal at the thrift store. It barely fit in the bedroom, and we had to move a few pieces of furniture into the living room. Still, it felt good not to sleep in the living room anymore. It felt even better to be able to wake up to Lilly's beautiful face every morning.

The rest of the semester was pretty uneventful. Lilly worked, I studied, and whatever free time we had, we spent together. It seemed like things would be smooth sailing from here on out.

Unfortunately, the Bard of Scotland's immortal words would ring true yet again.

**End of Chapter Ten**

_Buckle up, readers! It's going to be a bumpy ride! Stay tuned!_


	11. One More Time to Kill the Pain

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Eleven: One More Time to Kill the Pain

_From the memoirs of Lilly Truscott:_

Having lived in California all of my life, where most of the foliage was imported, springtime in Tennessee lifted my spirits in a way I never thought possible. Never in my life had I seen a landscape so green. Nor had I ever seen so many different flowers, or heard the songs of so many different birds. And as much as I enjoyed the change of scenery, I absolutely hated winter, so I especially welcomed the warmer temperatures.

Of course, that past winter hadn't been all bad. To say it got off to lousy start would be the granddaddy of all understatements. But even though I'd spent the last part of winter in a drafty apartment, I had the love of my life to warm my heart. That man, of all people, was Jackson Rod Stewart.

Five years prior, if anyone had suggested that I'd someday fall in love with Jackson, I would've laughed, puked, or questioned their sanity. Probably at least two out of three. But somewhere along the way, the lazy, air-headed man-child who'd tried to entertain me with armpit noises, and saved his flatus in a jam jar, had grown into a handsome, considerate, selfless young man who would give anything for his loved ones.

I was powerless against the new Jackson's charm. I tried maintaining the farce that was my relationship with Oliver, even following him to New York. But even then, the Almighty had made the forces of the universe conspire to bring us back together. A wise man once said that when you've been banging your head against the wall, it feels so good to stop. It might sound weird, but that's how it felt to finally accept Jackson's love.

As if all that weren't reason enough to celebrate, Jackson had just finished his last final, and summer break was finally upon us. Jackson decided to mark the occasion by treating me to my long-overdue birthday dinner at the Highpoint Lounge, an elegant but unpretentious restaurant with a spectacular view of the town, and the University on the opposite cliff. It would mark, I hoped, the beginning of many hours we'd have together as a couple.

As the host showed us to our table, Jackson had a troubled look on his face. I'm sure he had every intention of holding back what was bothering him so as not to spoil our evening, but I couldn't let him to that to himself.

"Jackson, what's wrong?" I asked after our entrees arrived.

Jackson sighed. "I didn't want to tell you this now, but since you asked...they didn't have enough kids sign up for soccer camp. The coaching job fell through."

"Oh, Jackson, I'm so sorry," I sympathized, taking his hand in mine. "I'm sure you'll be able to find another job around here somewhere."

"I already looked," reported Jackson. "The economy's still kind of slow, so pickings are a little slim."

"Well, don't worry about it," I offered. "I've still got my job at McLean's. It'll be tight, but we'll manage."

"I'd love to take you up on that," added Jackson, "But one of the hands down at Grandma Ruby's ranch is out of commission for the summer. She's already short-handed, so she really needs me."

"Oh, Jackson," I lamented. "I was really hoping we'd be together."

"I know," said Jackson. "Look, I'm just gonna tell her I can't do it."

"I can't let you do that, Jackson," I argued.

"Why not?" asked Jackson.

"Because I'm hoping to be a part of your family someday," I explained.

Jackson's eyes lit up. "Really?"

I nodded. "And if I'm going to do that, I can't let you leave your grandmother in a lurch."

"I know I'm asking you to make a big sacrifice," said Jackson.

"It's not a big deal," I said. "Crowley Corners is only two hours away. We'll see each other on our days off. We can make this work."

"You really think so?" doubted Jackson.

"I know so," I assured him. "I love you."

"I love you, too," reciprocated Jackson.

Jackson had to leave the following Monday. That morning, we must have held each other for a good half hour. After we kissed goodbye, I cried all the way to work. Little did I know, my sorrows had just begun.

As I walked in the door, I felt my spirits lifted by a warm smile from my boss, Mitch McLean. Mr. McLean had always been a gracious employer, showing a good deal of patience as I struggled to learn the operation of his business. Once I learned, I proved a capable employee, which he rewarded by letting me take Spring Break off.

"Good morning, Lilly," he greeted.

"Morning, Mr. McLean," I replied.

"You seem a little down this morning," he observed. "Is something bothering you?"

"My boyfriend's away for the summer," I explained. "I'll be okay."

"Glad to hear it," he said. "Listen, I'd like to introduce you to someone. Michael, could you come out here please?"

A young man a few years older than Jackson emerged from the office. Since he looked like a younger version of Mr. McLean, I correctly guessed the young man to be his son.

"Michael, this is Lilly Truscott, one of our top employees," introduced Mr. McLean. "Lilly this is my son Michael."

"Pleased to meet young," greeted Michael McLean, sending an unsettling chill up my spine as he shook my hand. "You can call me Mike."

Mike McLean bore a strong resemblance to his father, but carried himself completely differently. He wore his sleeves rolled up, his top button unbuttoned, and his tie partially undone. His dark brown hair was slicked forward to a point in the front. His teeth were just a bit too white, and he showed just a few too many when he smiled. His eyes moved like those of a wolf stalking its prey.

And then came the announcement that ruined my summer.

"The missus and I are taking a two-month cruise aboard the _S.S. Tipton_," explained Mr. McLean. "Sort of a second honeymoon."

"Oh, how nice," I said, trying to stay positive, having a sneaking suspicion where he was going with this. "I went on a teen cruise on the _Tipton_. She's a fine ship."

"Ah, what a coincidence," observed Mr. McLean. "Anyway, Michael's going to be minding the shop while I'm gone."

"Don't worry," said Mike. "I'm aware that this place practically runs itself. You won't even know I'm here."

"Good to know," I said, not quite believing him.

I had to admit, my first afternoon under Mike's supervision wasn't bad at all. He spent most of the day familiarizing himself with the office, leaving me to go about my work as usual. Unfortunately, that's where my smooth ride ended.

The next day, a grad student came in looking to buy a new printer. After reviewing his requirements, I set him up with a nice all-in-one model. Once he'd left, I found Mike lurking behind me.

"How's it going Lilly?" asked Mike.

"Great!" I said, trying to hide the discomfort of having him invade my personal space. "I just sold a printer."

"Yes, you did," acknowledged Mike, clearly not impressed. "Tell me, did you show him any of the laser printers?"

"There was really no need," I explained. "The all-in-one inkjet was more than adequate for his needs."

"For his needs, perhaps," argued Mike, crossing his arms. "Lilly, you are aware that you're a commissioned employee, correct?"

"Yeah, twenty percent," I replied.

"Precisely," said Mike. "That means the more money you make for us, the more money you make for you."

"Your dad never had a problem with my sales technique," I argued.

"My dad's old-fashioned," countered Mike. "His ideals are noble, but they won't keep us competitive in today's business climate. Once I've shown him what our business can do, I'm sure he'll see things my way."

"Well, if that's the case, why do we even carry the less expensive printers?"

Mike sighed, and put his arms around me, making me fight the urge to run screaming.

"Some people are just too stubborn to play ball," he explained. "Of course we still want their money, so we offer them a less expensive alternative. But only as a last resort. Do you understand?"

I groaned. "Yeah, I get it."

Mike donned his creepy style. "Good. Trust me, you'll thank me when you see next week's paycheck."

I knew from that day that this would end badly, and I should have quit then and there. But I'd held down the job for this long, and I wasn't going to give up now. To do so would be to admit that I couldn't make it out in the real world. I didn't just want to prove it to the folks back home. I wanted to prove it to Jackson as well.

Even though Robbie Ray was paying the tuition bill, I knew Jackson wanted to prove contribute something, and live down the reputation he'd acquired over the years of being a bum. In my warped reasoning, being a good prospective mate for him meant putting forth as much effort as he was. So I when I went back to work the next day, I sucked it up, and started using sales tactics that would make Rico cower in shame.

And yet, somehow, it was never enough in Mike's eyes. I took too long to do inventory. I didn't put enough pressure on the customers. I wasn't perky enough on the phone. With each passing day, I felt a little bit of my soul drip away.

A week and a half later, Jackson came to visit. Jackson may have been there, but I certainly wasn't. I was so exhausted that our conversations were pretty much monologues on his part. I even fell asleep while we were making love.

"Lilly, what's wrong?" asked Jackson just before he had to leave.

"Nothing," I lied. "Work's just been a little stressful lately. It'll be better next time, I promise."

"Okay," accepted Jackson, kissing me softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," I replied, wanting to fall asleep in his arms as we hugged.

As Mike put more and more pressure on me, I knew my relationship with Jackson wasn't going to survive the fallout of another week of this. I needed something to calm my nerves. A certain something came to mind several times. I quickly dismissed it each time, as I'd promised myself and Jackson I'd never go that route again. However, one day about a week after my visit with Jackson, Mike gave me a particularly lousy performance review.

"I'm sorry Lilly," said Mike. "But we're not making our sales quotas."

"Quotas that you yourself set," I argued.

"Yes, I did," countered Mike. "Because I know what it takes to keep this business viable. Now, if you can't generate the level of sales I need, that's fine. I'm willing to help."

"You are?" I asked skeptically.

"Absolutely!" said Mike. "We'll just schedule you for an extra day this week so you can make up the shortfall."

"That's not fair!" I protested. "I was going to go up to Crowley Corners to see Jackson."

"Well, then maybe you need to find a new boyfriend," retorted Mike.

"Dude, you are way out of line!" I said.

"Whatever!" dismissed Mike. "If you can't serve the needs of this business, I'll find someone who can. Are we clear?"

I gulped, choking back tears. "We're clear."

After my shift ended, I walked to my apartment as fast as I could. As I walked, I spotted a familiar face arriving at what appeared to be his apartment.

"Derek!" I called out, running toward him.

"Oh, it's you," he snarked as I approached.

"I need your help," I begged.

"Haven't you caused enough trouble?" he said.

"This is strictly business," I began to explain.

"And this is where I ask you the magic words," replied Derek.

"I'm not a cop," I assured him.

Derek's scowl immediately turned into a smile. "In that case, step into my office."

Derek showed me into his basement, a setup similar to the one at the party, and offered me a seat.

"So, what can I do you for?" asked Derek.

"I'm having a rough time at work," I explained.

"And this means what to me?" asked Derek.

"It's nothing I can't handle," I continued. "I just need a little herb to take the edge off."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" admonished Derek. "You were pretty out of it last time."

"I don't intend on taking that big of a hit," I assured him. "Like I said, just a little to take the edge off."

"Well then, little lady." said Derek. "Money talks and bullshit walks."

I began setting bills on the table until Derek held up his hand. He took out a sack of weed, and gave me some basic instructions on how to roll a joint. I took a small hit, and managed to resist the urge to cough. As the substance took hold of me, the tension headache and the stomach pains I felt from my grueling day at work melted away.

"Wow," I marveled. "I feel a whole lot better."

Derek chuckled. "One of these in the morning, and one in the evening, and you'll be guaranteed stress-free."

"Thanks a lot, Derek," I said, taking the parcel he'd wrapped up for me in a plain paper bag.

Derek saluted. "Pleasure doing business with you. Give me a holler if you need more."

And for the first week, it worked like a charm. Two small hits a day, and I became a selling machine. I knew that my sales tactics were completely and totally unethical. I was just too mellow to care. And I accomplished my goal. I'd achieved Mike's impossible sales quota for the week, and he let me have my two days off to go see Jackson.

Jackson ran out the door as I pulled up in front of Grandma Ruby's farmhouse. As soon as I got out of the car, he threw his arms around me.

"I've missed you so much," greeted Jackson as he held me tightly.

"I've missed you, too," I reciprocated.

The next day was the most magical, romantic day we'd had since we first got together. Jackson found me a steed who was forgiving of inexperienced riders like me, and we toured the countryside together. We had a picnic in a remote clearing, and we skinny-dipped in a pool beneath a waterfall. The day couldn't have gone better. Sadly, it could hardly have ended more badly.

As Jackson helped Grandma Ruby prepare dinner, my cell phone rang. Why I left the damned thing on, I'll never know. I also recognized the number, and immediately knew it couldn't be good news.

"What's up, Mike?" I answered.

"It's about Meredith," began Mike.

"What about her?" I asked. "She's our best worker."

"Yeah, but she can't _sell _her way out of a wet paper bag," elaborated Mike. "I had to let her go."

"You did _what?_" I reacted.

"I didn't want to, but it had to be done," lied Mike. "Listen, Lilly: Until I can find someone to replace her, I'm gonna need you to cover some of her shifts. I need you back tomorrow at noon."

"You promised I could have these two days off!" I protested.

"Well, you know what," pontificated Mike, "Sometimes the business climate changes and you have to adapt. I'd hate to have to replace two employees at once, but it's an employer's market, and if I have to look elsewhere for reliable people, I will."

"Are you threatening to fire me?" I asked redundantly.

"I believe I've made myself clear," replied Mike. "Be here tomorrow at noon, or don't bother showing up at all."

At dinner, Jackson and Grandma Ruby were laughing and talking about something or other. To this day, I have no idea what. My mind was elsewhere.

"So Lilly," asked Grandma Ruby. "How's work?"

"Work's okay," I lied, not wanting to talk about it.

"Did you manage to patch things up with Mike McLean?" asked Jackson.

"Not really," I admitted. "I have to work tomorrow."

"But I thought you weren't due back until Thursday," said Jackson. "I had a whole day of fun planned for tomorrow."

"Well, excuse me for ruining your vacation plans!" I shouted.

"Why don't you forget about that job and stay here," suggested Jackson, trying to diffuse the situation. At least on Grandma Ruby's part, it worked.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," agreed Grandma Ruby.

I didn't want to have this conversation then or there, and especially not in front of Grandma Ruby. But from the way I saw things at that moment, Jackson had forced the issue.

"I'm not some frail little damsel that you need to come rescue whenever I hit a speed bump," I argued. "I can take care of myself."

"You know that's not what I meant," countered Jackson.

"Then just what the frak do you mean?" I demanded, watching Grandma Ruby's jaw hit the floor at the use of such coarse language.

"It's hard to explain," attempted Jackson, "But if you'll just..."

"Forget it!" I interrupted, starting to cry. "Just please, let me deal with this in my own way. It's only for a few more weeks."

Jackson nodded. I think we both knew I wouldn't last that long, but he loved too much to try and stifle my independence.

"Excuse me," I said as I got up from the table. "I need some time alone."

With that, I ran upstairs and grabbed a small paper bag out of my knapsack. I then ran out to the stable and found an empty secluded stable. I put in my earbuds and turned the tunes up as loud as they would go.

Sometimes I think my MP3 player can read my mind. As I lit up a joint and took a long, slow drag, a certain song came on, a song by a band that was before my time that Robbie Ray had gotten me into. The second verse of the song seemed especially appropriate.

_Well I don't know, but I've been told  
You never slow down, you never grow old  
I'm tired of screwing up, tired of going down  
Tired of myself, tired of this town  
Oh my my, oh hell yes  
Honey put on that party dress  
Buy me a drink,sing me a song  
Take me as i come, 'cause i can't stay long_

_Last dance with Mary Jane  
One more time to kill the pain  
I feel summer creeping in  
And I'm tired of this town again_

Having the music up so loud, I didn't hear Grandma Ruby calling out to me until she'd already found me.

"Lilly, honey, are you in here?" called Grandma Ruby. "Oh my word!"

All of the blood ran out of her face as she saw me puffing away my sorrows and filling her barn with cannabis smoke.

**End of Chapter Eleven**

_Told you it would get rough. Stay tuned!_

Song Credit:

"Mary Jane's Last Dance"  
Written by Tom Petty  
Performed by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers  
From the album _Greatest Hits_ (1993)


	12. The Breaking Point

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Twelve: The Breaking Point

_From the memoirs of Jackson Stewart_

I knew it was too good to last. Anytime I found myself in a relationship with a smart, funny, kind, caring, beautiful woman, even one who'd been my friend for years, sooner or later I'd do something stupid to screw it up.

I thought I'd finally found "The One" in Lilly Truscott. I loved her so fully and so deeply that it hurt. And she loved me back. I knew she wasn't lying about that. But apparently, my love for her wasn't enough to keep me from trying to be a macho man under the guise of southern chivalry. I don't know how else I could've helped her, but it was my job to find a way. And I failed. Spectacularly. Ladies and gentlemen, I, Jackson Rod Stewart, was a born loser.

The argument at dinner had been the last I'd seen of Lilly. She'd left that night without saying goodbye. I knew she'd talked about something with Grandma Ruby, but she wouldn't tell me what. She wasn't answering my phone calls, and I didn't dare show up unannounced, lest I make things worse.

Grandma Ruby didn't say anything, but I wouldn't guess I was much help around the ranch. All I could think about was Lilly. How much I missed her, how much I wanted to help her through whatever was bothering her, even though she wouldn't let me, and I had no idea how. I started to think pursuing a relationship with her had been a mistake. Maybe if we hadn't confessed our feelings for one another, we wouldn't have been so dysfunctional apart.

I quickly dismissed that idea. As much as it hurt, our feelings for one another were real, and continuing to deny them would've caused even more pain. I'd always believed everything happened for a reason, so maybe this was just something I had to go through. I just wished there were some way to spare Lilly the pain.

Three weeks after I last saw Lilly, I had one of the worst work days of my entire life. Even though I'd managed to smell human again after scraping off the manure (don't ask) in the longest shower in the history of long showers, I was still sore from head to toe, and I just wanted to sleep it off. It was then I heard the last thing I wanted to hear: Grandma Ruby calling me downstairs to talk about something important.

"What is it, grandma?" I whined as I entered the living room.

"Jackson, have a seat," she instructed. The tone of her voice told me whatever she had to say couldn't be good.

"It's about Lilly," continued Grandma Ruby. "I know why she's been acting so weird lately."

"I know, grandma," I interrupted.

"Jackson..." she continued.

"I needed to give her her space, let her deal with this her own way."

"Jackson, shut your piehole and let me finish," admonished Grandma Ruby.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"Honey, your girlfriend has a drug problem," revealed Grandma Ruby.

"Grandma, it's not a big deal," I tried to explain. "She'd just broken up with Oliver, and she was feeling vulnerable, still trying to figure out who she was. She got high at a party, she had a bad reaction, it gave us both gad-awful scare, and she swore never to do it again."

Grandma Ruby sighed. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have handled things the way I did."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Jackson," elaborated Grandma Ruby. "I caught her smoking pot out in the stable."

"Oh my gosh!" I reacted. "Why didn't you do something? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't feel it was my place," she explained. "And she promised me she'd stop. She even gave me her stash to get rid of. I told the sheriff that I found it down by the Post Office when I turned it in."

I gasped. "And you believed her?"

Grandma Ruby hung her head. "I know, it was naïve of me. I just thought she was a good kid who'd made a few bad choices, and just need to be set back on the straight and narrow. If I'd known what you knew, I'd have done my best to get her some help."

"Why are you only telling me this now?" I asked.

"Well, I had a bottle of Quazepam in the medicine cabinet that the doctor prescribed when I was having trouble sleeping after the surgery," explained Grandma Ruby. "Thinking back on the incident, I decided it was a bad idea to have drugs in the house. I thought I still had half a bottle, and I was fixing to flush them. Well, the bottle was still there, but it was empty."

"And you're sure Lilly took them?" I inquired.

Grandma Ruby nodded. "You, me, and her are the only ones who've been in that bathroom in the past three weeks." Grandma Ruby began to cry. "Oh Jackson, I'm so sorry!"

I put my arms around my grandmother. "It's not your fault. And don't worry. One way or another, I'm gonna get through to Lilly."

Grandma Ruby nodded, giving me leave to make my phone calls, the first of which was to the office supply store.

"McLean's Office Supplies," answered the boss from hell. "Mike speaking."

"Hi, it's Jackson Stewart," I announced, resisting the urge to cuss him out. "Is Lilly there?"

"Oh, so you're her pathetic excuse for a boyfriend," snarked Mike.

"Cut the crap, donut," I demanded. "Where's Lilly?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," answered Mike. "I fired her pathetic junkie ass two days ago. Cripes, I can't believe I used to think she was hot."

"This is all your fault!" I accused.

"Whatever," dismissed Mike, just before hanging up the phone. "You two morons deserve each other. Have a nice life."

I wanted to drive back to Magdeburg right that second, first to find Lilly, and second to kick Mike McLean's smarmy ass into the next solar system. But somehow I knew I had to act more quickly than that. It occurred to me right then to call Morris' ex-girlfriend Megan, the EMT.

"Hi Jackson," said Megan as she answered the phone. "What's up?"

Megan was a sweet local girl, and knowing what I knew then, I was glad she'd dumped Morris.

"No time for pleasantries," I said. "Do you still have a key to my apartment."

"Lemme check," said Megan. I could hear the jingling of her keyring in the background. "Yeah, I have it. Do you need me to check on something?"

"Yeah, I need you to look in on my girlfriend," I instructed. "I can't get a hold of her, and no one knows where she is. Please, this is urgent."

"All right," agreed Megan. "I'll be over there in about five minutes."

"You're the best," I thanked her.

I turned around to see that Grandma Ruby had been listening in.

"Grandma, I'm really sorry, but..." I started to say.

"Go!" she interrupted. I nodded in agreement, then ran upstairs, grabbed my keys and wallet, and ran out the door.

As I sped down the Interstate at damn-near ninety miles an hour, Megan called me back.

"Please tell me you have good news," I pleaded as I answered the phone.

"I'm sorry," replied Megan. "Jackson, Lilly's really in a bad way. The medics just took her up to Sectorville Hospital."

"I'm headed that way now," I informed. "Thanks for everything, Megan."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help," she regretted as she hung up.

I arrived at the hospital about ninety minutes later. I asked for Lilly at the front desk, where they directed me to intensive care. I waited at the nurse's station until the doctor arrived.

"Are you Jackson Stewart," asked the doctor.

"That would be me," I confirmed.

"Lilly's mother informed me that you were on your way," said the doctor. "I'm Dr. Cohen, the attending physician."

"How is she?" I asked, shaking Dr. Cohen's hand.

"It's hard to say for sure at this point, but it's probable that she'll recover," informed Dr. Cohen.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Lilly's suffered a sedative overdoes," explained Dr. Cohen. "She'd gone into cardiac arrest, but your friend managed to get her heart started again. She's lucky to have been found by an EMT."

"How long will she be in here?" I asked.

"That's hard to say," Dr. Cohen explained ruefully. "She'll likely be out of intensive care in a few days, but she may need to be involuntarily committed to a mental health facility."

"You're gonna send my girlfriend to the funny farm?" I exclaimed.

"She tried to commit suicide," defended Dr. Cohen.

"You don't know that!" I argued.

"Still, she was using scheduled narcotics for which she didn't have a prescription," countered Dr. Cohen.

"So she screwed up," I granted. "She's not a criminal."

"I agree," said Dr. Cohen. "I just got off the phone with the Harrington County DA's office. They've agreed to probation provided that she seeks treatment at an inpatient facility. You can visit her, and if all goes well, she'll be out in a month."

I sighed. "You'll let me know when she wakes up?" I asked.

"I will," agreed Dr. Cohen.

I couldn't go back to my apartment, and I couldn't go back to Crowley Corners. Both were farther away from Lilly than I wanted to be right then. So I spent the next two days in the hospital waiting room. The chairs were incredibly uncomfortable, but I don't think I could've slept even if I wanted to.

Or eat, for that matter. I could feel a black hole forming in the pit of my stomach. I wondered if that black hole would ever go away. I wondered if I would ever see Lilly again, if indeed she'd pull through. I feared that I might spend the rest of my life mourning her. Words can't describe my relief when the nurse came to get me.

"Mr. Stewart," said the nurse. "Miss Truscott is awake. She wants to see you."

My spirits lifted immediately at the sight of her. All the color had gone out of her skin, her hair was a knotted mess, and she had stitches in her forehead and I.V.'s coming out of her arm. I never thought I possible to call a woman in that state beautiful. Yet to me, she was. I realized then that she always would be.

"Jackson," Lilly called weakly. I ran over and kissed her on the forehead.

"Oh, thank God you're alive!" I exclaimed.

"The doctor told me I'm going to be in the hospital for awhile," noted Lilly.

I nodded as I took her hand in mine. "Don't worry; you'll get well."

"How do you know?"

"You're Lilly Truscott," I explained. "You're too tough to let something silly like drugs keep you down."

"I'm not, Jackson," argued Lilly. "I thought I could do this all on my own. And I failed."

"Well, now you don't have to do it on your own," I encouraged. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

"You don't have to."

"Of course I do," I insisted. "I'm your boyfriend. That's what boyfriends do."

"How can you still be my boyfriend?" asked Lilly. "I shut you out of my life because I didn't want to admit I needed you. You deserve someone better than me."

"Do you want me to break up with you?" I asked.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" demanded Lilly.

"I don't want to break up with you," I declared. "And you can try as hard as you can to push me away, but until you come right out and say you don't want me around, I'm not leaving. I love you, Lilly."

"I love you, too," said Lilly. "Why do you have to be so wonderful? I don't deserve you."

"And I don't give a dang-flab what you think you deserve," I declared. "I'm here for you, always and forever."

"So we're back together?" asked Lilly.

"As far as I'm concerned, we never broke up," I answered.

She managed to sit up, and I gently stroked her hair as I held her head against my chest.

The nurse ushered me out of the room shortly thereafter, stating that Lilly needed her rest. Lilly had to undergo a number of tests the next day, and the day after. On the third day, I returned, with a surprise in store.

"I just have to know one thing," I inquired. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"

Lilly shook her head. "I wasn't trying to do anything specific except make the pain stop."

She sat silent for moment before speaking up again. "Jackson, there's something you need to know."

"I'm listening."

"Before this happened, I could feel myself stop breathing. My last thought was of how much I loved you, and how I'd let you down, and how I'd never get a chance to make it up to you."

"I forgive you, Lilly." I assured her. "I just want you to get well."

"I will," promised Lilly. "For you."

"Don't do it just for me," I admonished. "Do it for you, and for all the people who love me."

"Yeah," said Miley, arriving right on cue. "Like me."

"Miley!" exclaimed Lilly. The two hugged as best they could with the I.V.'s in Lilly's arm. "I thought Hannah was still on tour."

"Hannah's taking a break," declared Miley. "Her best friend needs her."

"For how long?" asked Lilly.

"For as long as you need me," clarified Miley. "And your mom will be here tomorrow."

"Did you mean it when you said I was your best friend?" asked Lilly.

Miley nodded. "Seems to me you've always had two best friend slots. Sharing the title with Jackson is a small price to pay."

And thus began Lilly's road to recovery. It wouldn't be easy, but she'd make it through with her best friends at her side. And yet, as I stood in that hospital room, I realized that my sister, the woman I loved, and I were much more than best friends.

We were family.

**End of Chapter Twelve**

_I decided making the OD a cliffhanger would've been just plain sadistic. Stay tuned!_


	13. Picking Up the Pieces

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Thirteen: Picking Up the Pieces

_From the memoirs of Lilly Truscott:_

The day they released me from the hospital turned out to be one of the most humiliating days of my life. I would've preferred to leave the hospital on my feet, hand in hand with Jackson. Instead, they wheeled me out, where a Department of Corrections van waited to take me to court. At least they didn't make me wear handcuffs.

When I arrived in the courtroom, my disposition brightened as I saw my mother, along with Jackson, Miley, and Robbie Ray, there in the front row to support me. I took a seat beside my defense counsel, a criminal attorney who had represented some of Robbie Ray's colleagues in his Nashville days. Unfortunately, he couldn't do any better than the deal the DA had already offered me, and advised me to take it.

"All rise," ordered the Bailiff. "Court is now in session: the case of the State of Tennessee vs. Lillian Truscott, the Honorable Judge Frank Wallace presiding."

"Be seated," instructed Judge Wallace. "The charge is the Misdemeanor Possession of a Schedule IV Controlled Substance. How does the defendant plead?"

"Guilty, Your Honor," answered my attorney.

"Mister Hobbes, it's understanding of this court that Miss Truscott has entered into a plea agreement."

"Yes, Your Honor," answered Jason Hobbes, the Harrington County Assistant DA. "We recommend twelve months probation, to be serve concurrently with a four-week course of inpatient substance abuse treatment."

"Miss Truscott, are you prepared to allocute as to the circumstances of your offense?" asked the Judge.

I gulped before answering. "Yes, Your Honor."

"Very well. Please take the stand."

I proceeded to explain how I'd met Derek, how he'd first offered me the bong, how I'd sought him out again when I mistakenly believed a little self-medication was all I needed to deal with my problems at work, how I'd stolen the sleeping pills from Grandma Ruby when the stress was keeping me awake at nights when the grass wasn't taking the edge off any longer. I made sure to emphasize my sincere commitment to getting well and staying away from drugs from then on.

"Before I pass sentence," said the Judge, "I would like to go on record of saying that I am impressed with Miss Truscott's strength of character, particularly her willingness to accept responsibility for her actions. Furthermore, the presence of Miss Truscott's friends and family in this courtroom assures me that she has the support necessary to follow through in her resolve. It is therefore the opinion of this court that the interests of the people of the State of Tennessee would not be served by incarcerating Miss Truscott, and will accept the DA's recommendation. All rise."

We arose, and the Judge handed down my sentence. "Lillian Truscott, you are hereby sentenced to twelve months probation, to be served concurrently with a four-week course of inpatient substance abuse treatment, in a facility to be determined by the Department of Human Services. This court is adjourned."

I really wanted to visit with my mother and the Stewarts for a moment, but the bailiff ushered me out before I could. Still exhausted from the whole ordeal, I slept for the entire ride to Nashville. When I arrived, the corrections officer checked me into the Divine Providence Rehabilitation Center, my home for the next month.

The program turned out to be pretty much the way I imagined it, consisting mostly of group therapy sessions. At first, they seemed pretty pointless. Unlike most of the people there, I wasn't going through any physical withdrawal symptoms, and I didn't feel the overwhelming urge to light up. As we got to sharing, however, I realized that each had his own story to tell, and most of them had gotten into drugs as innocently as I had. From thence came the stark realization that I wasn't any better than them, nor were they any worse than me.

After my first week, I was allowed to have visitors. As much as I'd hoped to see Jackson, he had a meeting with his advisor that he couldn't reschedule, and I told him to go. After holding out this long, another twenty-four hours wasn't going to kill me. I didn't have any sessions scheduled for that day, so I played around in the music therapy room, hoping to see Miley instead, or perhaps my mother. I have to admit to having been a little surprised by who visited me that day.

"Come in," I said, hearing a knock at the door. Robbie Ray Stewart entered, with his guitar in tow.

"Oh, hey Mr. Stewart," I greeted.

"Hey there, Lilly," he replied. "Playing some music?"

"Nah, just fooling around," I answered. "I took some piano lessons in high school, but they really didn't take."

"You sound alright to me," argued Robbie Ray.

"Not that unhappy to see you, but where's Miley?" I asked.

"Miley will be back later tonight," informed Robbie. "She thought she could handle a little extra responsibility, so I let her fly back to LA to finalize the sale of our house."

"You're moving?" I asked. "Where to?"

"Well, here of course," answered Robbie. "After all, this where my family is. My daughter, my son, and my future daughter-in-law."

"I can't believe you'd still want me as part of your family," I marveled.

"I think in a way, you always were," noted Robbie.

"I guess," I granted. "But I still can't believe Jackson still wants me. He must be crazy!"

"Darling, that ain't crazy," argued Robbie. "That's love."

"I know," I said, beginning to mist up. "But it's hard to imagine anyone having the guts to stick with me through something like this."

"Well, he gets that from his mother," replied Robbie.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, having some idea of where he was going with this.

"What I'm about to tell you, only Miley and Jackson know about," began Robbie. "Back before Miley was born, and Jackson was just a baby, my back went out during a show. It took me several months of physical therapy to get right again."

I nodded. I knew that even to that day, Robbie struggled with back problems.

"Well, the doctor gave me some pills for the pain," continued Robbie. "At the time, I thought those pills were magical. Well, my back got better, but by then I was at the top of my game, and I had a son to raise to boot. Whenever I had a few hours to myself to catch some sleep, I found I just couldn't. Then I remembered I still had some of those pills, and they'd always knock me out cold. So I started taking them so I could sleep. But then I started taking them whenever I needed to unwind after a show. Eventually, I ran out of pills, so I went back to the doctor claiming my back was acting up again. After awhile, those didn't do the trick anymore.

"Unfortunately, in the music scene, it's not hard to find people with drug connections. So I got some stronger stuff, and the next year was kind of a blur. Finally, my wife came to pay me a surprise visit, and found me passed out on the floor."

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed.

I'd always wondered why Robbie had chosen to suffer rather than take pills when his back went out. Or why he always had water when everyone else ordered wine. Now I understood. Robbie Ray Stewart was a recovering drug-addict. Now it made sense why he went out of his way to shelter his kids.. Even when Miley had her Hannah wig on, she had Roxy, the most overprotective bodyguard in the history of overprotective bodyguards. Robbie wanted to make damn sure his kids never got anywhere near drugs.

"So what happened next?" I asked.

"My wife checked me into this place," continued Robbie. "She even managed to keep my name out of the papers. It was nothing short of a miracle."

"I'll say," I agreed. "Now I know why you're not ashamed to be around me.

Robbie nodded. "That'd be mighty hypocritical of me."

I'd never felt closer to Robbie Stewart than I did then. So I didn't mind at all when he started looking through the papers I'd collected on the music stand.

"What's this?" asked Robbie.

"Just some poetry I wrote," I answered.

"Poetry, huh?"

"Yeah, just some stuff that came out in therapy," I elaborated. "Apparently, I hadn't worked through all of my Oliver baggage."

"Would you mind if I read it?" requested Robbie.

"Go ahead," I agreed. "It's not very good, though."

Robbie donned his charming hillbilly grin as he read through the poems I'd written.

"I think these are great," commented Robbie.

"Please, Mr. Stewart," I replied. "You don't have to flatter me."

"That would be Robbie to you," corrected Robbie. "Now, this one looks like a couple of verses, and this one looks like a chorus. Set 'em to music, and you've got yourself a song."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes, really," confirmed Robbie as he got ready to play his guitar. "Play that little piano ditty again. It'll make a nice backbeat."

I played the backbeat as requested (probably the simplest thing one could play with two hands), and also came up with some additional lyrics. Robbie Ray came up with a melody, and by the time visiting hours were over, we had the beginnings of a song.

"Your attention please," came the announcement. "Visiting hours will be over in five minutes. Visiting hours will resume tomorrow at noon."

"It was really good to see you, Robbie," I said, using his given name for the first time.

"You too, Lilly," replied Robbie, drawing me into a hug.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too, darling." replied Robbie.

I don't know what made me say it, but I'm glad I did. Robbie was right about my being a part of his family. In the years following the divorce, he had been more of a father to me than my own father. Perhaps that was why I'd been so keen on the idea of his marrying my mother. Of course, now that my friendship with Jackson had blossomed into a romance, I was glad that hadn't worked out. But even there, Miley and I could still be sisters.

Why did I dare to hope after so much had gone wrong? The answer was obvious: Every time I fell down, there was Jackson Stewart to help me pick myself back up. But he wouldn't have been able to help me this time if his family hadn't stood behind him. I'd never been more sure than at that moment that there could be no one else for me but Jackson. I wanted more than anything to make my membership in the Stewart family official.

Unfortunately, I had to wait another day to see Jackson, because my mother had to fly back to California the next day, making me curse the center's useless one-visitor-at-a-time rule. Still, it was the first time I'd seen her since the hospital, and I hadn't really gotten to talk to her much then. When she arrived in the common room, I approached her slowly, my face downcast. For some reason, I expected her to want to disown me. Instead, she threw her arms around me and hugged me as tightly as she could. It was then that I broke down and cried.

"Mom, I'm so sorry," I cried.

"It's okay, honey," comforted Mom.

"How can you say that?" I argued.

"Because you're my daughter," said Mom. "And no matter how badly you mess up, I'll always love you."

"I love you, too," I reciprocated. "I'll do anything to make this up to you."

"The doctor tells me you're doing great," reported Mom. "She says you'll be out right on schedule. That's more than enough for me."

Mom led me over to one of the couches, where we took a seat, and she took my hand.

"Honey, life's all about making mistakes," began Mom.

"Yeah, I know," I said. "Nobody's perfect."

"That doesn't quite cover it," continued Mom. "I'm talking about monumental mistakes." Mom paused for a moment. "Like marrying your father."

I nodded in agreement. Even when Dad was still around, he'd been a spectacularly mediocre father.

"But the thing about monumental mistakes is, more often than not, something great comes out of them," continued Mom. "My marriage was never a happy one, and it was a mistake, but I'm glad I gritted my teeth through it. Because now I have a beautiful, wonderful daughter."

"Who's a recovering drug-addict," I added.

"Even so," countered Mom.

We talked for awhile about my future plans. One of my many incentives to get through this treatment program included being out in time for the fall semester at Tennessee. With my two best friends at my side, I had a second chance to start my college career off right. We never mentioned what good thing would come from all of my bad experiences this past year, because we both knew.

"So it's okay with you that I want to stay here?" I asked my mother.

"Of course," assured Mom. "It's okay to put down roots somewhere else. Just don't forget where you came from."

"I won't," I promised. "I think a part of me will always be a Cali girl."

"That's my girl," said Mom as she hugged me goodbye. "I love you, honey."

"I love you, too, Mom,"

The next day, my heart raced with anticipation as visiting hours commenced. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long. At the tick of noon, the love of my life came through the doors. I ran toward him and threw myself into his arms. I knew the administration had certain guidelines as to what displays of affection were acceptable. Neither of us cared. Our lips crashed together, and we kissed with abandon, finally able to give some satisfaction to the hunger we'd built up for one another.

Jackson and I said nothing for the next hour. We just sat on the couch and held each other, making up for all the time we'd gone without one another's touch. It was then I realized that Jackson made me love him not by what he said or did, but just by being him. I still don't understand how it works, and I hope I never do, for fear that it might lose its power over me.

Over the next few weeks, I rotated between visits from the members of the Stewart family. One day Miley showed up with her guitar. Given that, I lead her to the music therapy room, and we ran through the song that Robbie and I had written, as Miley sang:

_We were picture perfect  
Flawless on the surface  
We were walking on a straight line_

_ We were automatic  
You seemed so fanatic  
I was confident and wide-eyed  
_

_Tough times  
Watch us come undone  
You found someone_

_ Tell me what I think about you  
And tell me if you think about me  
And tell me when touch her  
Is it really love  
Or just another fantasy?_

_ And tell me does she make you laugh  
And tell me does she make you move  
And tell me does she get you  
Take away your breath  
Just tell me that it can't be true_

_ What I found out about you_

"So I take it you like it," I observed after we finished.

"Are you kidding?" said Miley. "It's the most honest, heartfelt piece of music I've ever heard."

I smiled. "Who knows? Maybe it's Hannah's next big hit."

"Doubtful," answered Miley. "But it could very well be Miley's first big hit."

"What are you talking about?"

Miley sighed. "Lilly, it's been a great ride, and I'm glad you were with me for most of it. But I think it's time for Hannah to hang up her wig."

"But Miley," I argued. "Hannah's a part of who you are."

"And she always will be," elaborated Miley. "The idea was to be able to experience being a normal teenager. You and I did that together, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. Singing is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I've grown up, and so has my music. I think it's high-time Hannah rides off into the sunset, and we unleash Miley Stewart on the world."

"Considering which one of us developed a drug problem, I think you can handle it," I interjected.

"And if there's more where this came from, I'd be proud to have you as part of my songwriting team," offered Miley.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Well, now that I have a mental health history and a criminal record, teaching is out," I noted. "But given the way my life's been going lately, I should have realized something better would come along."

"It'll be awesome," promised Miley. "You just wait and see."

After what seemed like an eternity, I received my discharge, right on schedule. Miley and Jackson came up to meet me, and escorted down the visitors' elevator (not the patient elevator I'd used throughout my stay.) As we walked out the front door, I felt the warm Tennessee sunshine on my face. I ran ahead to the car where Robbie Ray awaited me. When I arrived, I realized I was no longer standing on the grounds of the Divine Providence Rehabilitation Center, but on a public sidewalk. Music from the movie _Braveheart _played in my head, and I cried out.

"_Freedom!"_

Miley and Jackson laughed, and hugged me from either side. We got in the car, and headed out toward Crowley Corners, where we would celebrate my release at Grandma Ruby's house.

Jackson, Miley, Robbie Ray, Mamaw Stewart, Grandma Ruby and I gathered around the dinner table and enjoyed a feast fit for a king. After we finished, we gathered in the living room and sang songs. Surprisingly, nobody seemed to mind my horrible singing. Around midnight, Jackson got up and made a speech.

"Lilly," he began, "I realize that this is your big night, but with all of us gathered here, I can't help but point out that I have the most awesome family ever."

We all cheered at that sentiment.

"If I could just make one addition to my family, it'd be absolutely perfect."

I knew what would happen next would come eventually, but I hadn't expected it this soon. Nonetheless, any and all doubts had long ago vanished from my mind. After all we'd been through together, Jackson and I were indisputably meant to be.

Jackson descended on bended knee before me, and opened a small jewelry box, which contained a modest but beautiful diamond ring.

"Lilly Truscott," proposed Jackson. "Will you be my wife?"

Tears ran down my face immediately, and I didn't hesitate for a moment to give my answer.

"Yes," I replied simply. Jackson placed the ring on my finger, then rose to meet my face.

Our family cheered as I kissed my new fiancé.

**End of Chapter Thirteen**

_Two more chapters, I think. Stay tuned!_

Song Credit:

"Found Out About You"  
Written by M. Bair, E. Osment, & T. Pagnotta  
Originally performed by Emily Osment  
From the EP _All the Right Wrongs _(2009)


	14. Moving Forward

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Chapter Fourteen: Moving Forward

_From the memoirs of Jackson Stewart:_

If you hadn't heard, let me be the first to tell that love isn't all tuxedos and violins. Don't get me wrong, that's certainly part of it, but love is hard work. Hence the term "labor of love." Lilly and I both learned this the hard way. We've overcome the biggest hurdle in our relationship, but it would by no means be the last, and we would carry the scars from it for the rest of our lives.

The next two semesters proved to be trying times in their own right. School was certainly a major challenge. Lilly and Miley both declared a Music Business major. Being in different majors, and different class ranks, Lilly and I saw far less of each other than we would've liked. On top of that, I had senior projects to work on, and both she and Miley had to take a brutal course-load in order to get caught up.

Lilly remained true to her word and stayed away from the drugs. Even so, drug addiction doesn't just go away. It's something that haunts you for the rest of your life; something you need to stay on top of. Lilly and my dad started attending NA meetings on campus, and I started attending Nar-Anon meetings with Miley. There, we found the support and the tools to help Lilly in her battle to stay clean.

As if that weren't enough to keep any sane person at his wits' end, we also had a wedding to plan for. Luckily for us, Tennessee had some time ago adopted a non-traditional Friday night commencement ceremony. We figured on having the wedding the next day, since all the folks from the west coast would be in the area for my graduation, anyway.

In a way, though, it was good that we were so busy. It made the big day come more quickly than we could've imagined. I was immensely happy to be graduating, but the anticipation of the following day hampered my enjoyment of the ceremony somewhat. Also, the speaker was rather long-winded, and his speech seemed kind of pointless. When all was said and done, my soon-to-be-wife was the first to congratulate me, followed by my father, my sister, and my grandmothers.

We enjoyed a brief family dinner at the Highpoint before headed out. We had a big day ahead of us, and we wanted to be good and rested up for it. Lilly and I drove to Crowley Corners in her car, and we reminisced about our lives up to that point for most of the trip.

"You know, I'm thinking about taking up skateboarding again," commented Lilly.

"Really?" I responded.

"Yeah," said Lilly. "I mean, I didn't really have time for it this past year, but I really miss it. Now that I think about it, my life really started to go downhill around the same time I gave it up. Now that things are looking up for me, it seems right that I'd bring something else I've enjoyed back into it."

"That's awesome," I approved.

When Lilly and I had first started going out, I'd hoped that no matter how we got, we'd occasionally take out our inner children and have a play-date with them. I could hardly believe that so many dreams were coming true at once.

I arrived at the Crowley Corners Community Church early the next morning, where a sexton showed me to the Sunday School room that had been set aside to make myself ready. A few minutes later, my Best Man arrived.

"Hey-O!" he greeted.

While Lilly's choice of Miley as her Maid of Honor was a foregone conclusion, choosing someone to stand with me at the altar proved to be a bit of a challenge. I'd lost touch with Cooper and Thor some years prior, and I wasn't close enough with any of my college friends or my cousins to consider them for the role. As I eliminated all of the other possibilities, Rico, the young man who'd provided the setting for the turning point in my relationship with Lilly, stood out as the only logical choice.

"Hey Rico," I greeted. "How's Harvard Business School?"

"Spectacular," beamed Rico. "Though they obvious didn't know who they were dealing with when they accepted, _Rrrrrrrrrrrico!"_

I laughed. "No, I reckon not."

"You know, after all the crap I put you through, I can't believe you picked me," pondered Rico.

"Dude, Lilly and I wouldn't have gotten through the last year if you hadn't taught me how to take a few lumps," I noted.

Rico grinned. "In that case, you're welcome."

As I made myself ready, Rico returned to with what he initially thought was bad news.

"I don't know if Lilly's ready for this," worried Rico. "I heard she fainted a few minutes ago."

At that moment, I heard my dad and Uncle Earl hooting and hollering, and knew exactly what had happened.

"Don't worry about it," I assured him. "That happens to everybody when they meet Aunt Pearl for the first time."

In the Stewart family, there's no such thing as a small wedding. With Lilly's friends and family barely filling the first two pews on the bride's side, it left some much-needed room for relatives from both sides of my family. In short, we had that little church crammed to the gills.

As Rico and I stood ready at the altar (I wondered why they still called it that, since Protestant churches don't have altars,) the organist played a prelude, during which Lilly's mother and Grandma Ruby (standing in for my late mother) each lit one of the taper candles. Afterward, Miley, Lilly's sole bridesmaid, made her way down the aisle. When the organist began his rousing rendition of Clarke's _Trumpet Voluntary_, I knew the moment had arrived.

Lilly and I were both disappointed that her father had declined to attend, but it seemed equally fitting my dad should be the one to walk her down the aisle. On his arm was a bride so radiant she defied description. She wore a modest but elegant sleeveless wedding dress (that, oddly enough, no one challenged her right to wear.)

As Dad took Lilly's hands and placed them in mind, a thought entered my head that seemed a little out of place. Many times, I'd imagined standing with Oliver as he stood where I now stood. In all of those fantasies, I felt myself wishing I were standing in his place. I realized then that today wasn't a day to be spiteful, but a day to be thankful. And I would be forever thankful to be standing in that place with Lilly.

Lilly and I had both memorized our wedding vows...and we both botched the recitation. Everyone helped us laugh it off, and with a little prompting from the pastor, we got through it. Rico handed the pastor the rings, and the pastor handed them to each of us in our turn. I, for my part, shook like a leaf as I placed the ring on Lilly's finger.

Next, Miley and Dad performed a song they'd written especially for the occasion. As they sang, Lilly and I took the taper candles, and together lit the unity candle. We resumed our place in front of the pastor right as the song finished.

"By the authority vested in me by God," declared the pastor. "Through the administration of the laws of the State of Tennessee, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

I held nothing back as I kissed my bride fully and passionately.

"Ladies and gentlemen," concluded the pastor. "It is my privilege to present, for the first time, Mr. Jackson Stewart, and Mrs. Lillian Truscott Stewart."

The crowd applauded, and the pastor rolled his eyes in anticipation of the recorded song we'd chosen as a recessional, to which we literally ran out of the church:

_Somehow everything's gonna fall  
__Right into place  
If we only had a way to make it all _

_Fall faster everyday  
If only time flew like a dove  
Well God, make it fly  
__Faster than I'm falling in love_

This time we're not giving up  
Let's make it last forever  
Screaming "Hallelujah"  
We'll make it last forever

Lilly and I had decided to skip cruising around to take wedding photos, since we had a rather lengthy ride to Nashville.

"I can't believe we're having our reception at the Nashville Tipton," marveled Lilly, coming up for a breath after almost half an hour of making out.

"Yeah, Miley decided to take one for the team and record 'London Tipton's Really Great.' In exchange, London got them to rent us the Grand Ballroom gratis."

"Really? I may have to rethink my opinion of London."

The reception began with the traditional toast from the Best Man. Given who my Best Man was, I had no idea what to expect.

"Friends and family," began Rico. "What can I say about Jackson Rod Stewart? From the day I first met him, I thought he was a pathetic loser."

The guests laughed while Lilly and I rolled our eyes.

"But he's also the closest thing I've ever had to a best friend," continued Rico. "And deep down, I always thought he deserved someone really special. And having also grown up with Lilly, I can't think of anyone more special for him. With such a beautiful bride, I can't really call you a loser anymore." Rico raised his glass. "_Salud_, Jackson and Lilly."

"_Salud_," said the guests, echoing the traditional Spanish toast.

Miley saved her toast for after supper.

"Lilly," began Miley. "I have to admit, at one point the thought of you with my brother would've sent chills up my spine. And I've never been happier to be proven wrong. Jackson, I'm truly impressed with the man you've become in these recent years. You may still be short, but you've grown by leaps and bounds on the inside. And Lilly, I've said it before, and I'll say it again: You're more than a best friend. You're like a sister to me. Words can't describe my happiness that you're now officially a part of my family. I love you both so much. God bless you."

Miley raised her glass, and the guests toasted.

"And now it's time for the bride and groom to have their first dance together," announced Miley. "When I asked Lilly and Jackson what 'their song' was, they answered 'Love Bites' by Def Leppard. While I'm sure that song will always be special to them, it's not really the kind of song you dance to at a wedding. So Lilly and Jackson, I hope you don't mind if I sing something equally-fitting for you."

Lilly and I took to the dance floor as the song started with a keyboard solo. We began to dance as Miley started to sing:

_Used to be that I believed in something  
__Used to be that I believed in love  
__It's been a long time since I've had that feeling  
__I could love someone  
__I could trust someone_

_I said I'd never let nobody near my heart again, darling  
__I said I'd never, let nobody in_

_But..._

_If, you, asked me to  
__I just might change my mind  
__And let you in my life forever  
__If, you, asked me to  
__I just might give my heart  
__And stay here in your arms forever_

_If, you, asked me to_

_If, you, asked me to_

After Lilly danced with my father, and I danced with my grandmothers, the reception transitioned into the rootin'-est, tootin'-est hillbilly hoedown the Tipton Hotel had ever seen. Everyone had a grand old time, and by the time we made our way up to our suite, Lilly and I were exhausted.

"Man, am I glad to be out of that dress," said Lilly as she emerged from the bedroom, her hair let down, makeup scrubbed off, and glad in a bathrobe.

"You looked amazing in it," I complimented.

"Thanks," said Lilly as she put her arms around my neck. "And you looked devilishly-handsome in that tux."

"Thanks," I reciprocated, and we kissed for a few moments.

"But seriously," continued Lilly. "I could hardly breathe in that thing. I put on about five pounds since I picked it out."

"That'll happen," I noted. "You're still incredibly beautiful."

Lilly smiled. "I think I'll keep you around."

"I should certainly hope so."

"Yeah," said Lilly. "Jackson, when you first met me, did you ever think I'd be your wife?"

"Come on, Lils," I argued. "We were just kids back then."

"But?" said Lilly, sensing what I was thinking.

"Even then, I thought you were kind of cute. I sure as Sam Heck wasn't thinking about marriage, but the thought of you being my girlfriend was kind of cute."

"Well, not to give you a swollen head," answered Lilly. "But I thought you were kind of cute, too."

"Yeah, sorry I spoiled that for you by being such an immature slob," I apologized.

Lilly smiled. "Well, obviously you got over it."

I stroked Lilly's cheekbone and looked deep into her eyes.

"Lilly," I said, "I mean what I said when we first became a couple. You're still my best friend, and you always will be."

"I know," said Lilly, a single tear running down her cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." I reciprocated.

Despite our exhaustion, Lilly and I made love for the first time as man and wife. For some reason, the fact that we'd been together before didn't make it any less special.

We returned from our honeymoon two weeks later, and settled into the house we'd rented in Magdeburg. Thanks to my excellent references, I'd managed to land a job as a music correspondent for one of the Nashville papers. I'd be traveling a fair bit, but I only had to come into the office two days a week on average, leaving me plenty of time for my new wife.

One of the things we found when we arrived was a wedding card with a New York postmark. Lilly and I opened it together. It read:

Dear Lilly and Jackson:

I'd heard of your recent marriage through some friends of mine in the Nashville area. In spite of all that's happened, I want to congratulate you. You're both wonderful people, and I know you'll be very happy together.

Lilly, I'm truly ashamed for the many things I've done to you. I know I can never make it up to you, I know we can never be friends again. All I can do is beg for your forgiveness. Jackson has always been a great friend, a better friend than I could ever hope to be, and I take some comfort knowing that the two of your are together.

Jackson, I urge you never to lose sight of what a precious gift Lilly is. I did, and I lost her. It was the worst mistake I've ever made, one that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Love her, cherish her, care for her, and hold onto her with all of your strength. There is no one else like her.

Thank you for allowing me to express my sincere best wishes for your future. Take good care of one another.

Sincerely,

Oliver Oken.

I held my wife tightly as she cried. After all this time, she could finally let go of that particular demon.

**End of Chapter Fourteen**

_One more chapter, and it'll be a short one. The Céline Dion version that most people are familiar with of the song that Miley sang is, in fact, a cover. Credit to the original artist appears below. Stay tuned._

Song Credits:

"Hallelujah"  
Written by Josh Farro & Hayley Williams  
Performed by Paramore  
From the album _Riot! _(2007)

"If You Asked Me To"  
Written by Diane Warren  
Originally performed by Patti LaBelle  
From the album _Be Yourself _(1989)


	15. Epilogue

**Love Bites**

**By**

**James Doyle**

Epilogue

_From the memoirs of Lilly Truscott Stewart_

_23 July 2038_

Throughout my life, Jackson Rod Stewart has been many things to me. He started out as my best friend's brother. Then he became a friend in his own right. Eventually, he became my best friend, my lover, my husband, and ultimately the father of my children. He's also been a helper in times of need, the voice of reason, and shoulder to cry upon. And to this day, he continues to be every one of those things.

My life as a member of the Stewart family has been a blessed one. Miley began performing country music under her legal name shortly after Jackson and I married. This proved to be a blessing for Robbie Ray, as well. Now that his kids were pursuing careers of their own, it paved the way for his own return to the stage. I took an English minor to help strengthen my poetic talents, and I collaborated on a good many songs with both of them. Once I graduated, my dream job of managing both Miley and Robbie Ray awaited me.

Robbie has since retired, but Miley and I continue to be a creative team. I also write for Sammy Tibbs, a country star whom Robbie Ray mentored back when Sammy first started out, who eventually became Miley's husband.

Jackson and I have two wonderful children. Our first was a girl, named Heather, for her grandmother. She wasn't planned as well as we'd hoped, so I spent most of my senior year pregnant with her (and went into labor at commencement!) Still, bringing her into the world gave us unimaginable joy. Our second was a boy, named Robert for his grandfather, known as Rob to distinguish himself from the same, who was born almost two years later.

At the age of forty-seven, Jackson has added yet another title to the list. As of two days prior to this writing, Jackson and I are officially grandparents to Ruth Lillian McConnell, named for her great-grandmother, and for me, of course. Happily, but unexpectedly, we had yet another surprise in store.

These days, in the middle of the twenty-first century, it's not at all uncommon for women to have children well into their forties. As it turns out, I'm no exception. The day after our granddaughter was born, Jackson and I found out we were expecting a third child. We've already decided that if it's a girl, she'll be an Aunt Miley with an Aunt Miley of her own.

There's so much more that I could talk about, but I think this account would be incomplete if I didn't speak to my drug problem. I'm happy to say I've never had a relapse, and last year, I celebrated twenty-five years of clean living. Like Robbie Ray, I avoid any and all mind-altering substances. I don't even drink caffeine. There are still days, particularly in times of high stress, when I still wake up thinking about pot. It's been legal for about twenty years now, and the debate rages on as to whether it is, in fact, addictive, or a "gateway drug," as it were. I can't say one way or the other. I'm sure there are people who can toke up at a party and never touch the stuff again. I'm not one of them. My experiences have exposed the weakness I have that makes me want to medicate my troubles away. I shudder to think of where I'd be without the support of my family, especially my husband and my father-in-law, and that of my fellow addicts.

My life story is a story of love. It's about the love of my family, both the family I was born into, and the family I would eventually marry into. It's also about the heartache of love that isn't true. There's also the love of my best friend, which never faded, even though I'd been sure I'd destroyed it. And I could never forget the love of my other best friend, a best friend who showed himself to be my soulmate, who held my hand as we walked through the fires of hell together. Lastly, it's a story about my love for the state of Tennessee, a place which brought my most difficult trials, but a place I'm nonetheless proud to call home.

Love is a wonderful thing, but true love will make you work for it, and fight for it. In other words...

_If you've got love in your sights_

_Watch out: Love bites_

**The End**

_Thanks for reading, everybody!_


End file.
